The moment the benediction was pronounced she came directly to her and greeted her with a half-deprecatory air, but with a roguish gleam in her saucy eyes.
Katherine lingered a little to speak to some acquaintances, and also introduced her companion; then they passed out of the hall together.
"Did you have Prof. Seabrook's permission to come here this morning, Jennie?" Katherine inquired, when they were on the street, but feeling confident of receiving a negative reply.
Jennie took refuge in one of her comical grimaces and shrugged her plump shoulders.
"Ask me no questions and I will tell you no—stories," she laughingly rejoined.
"I am answered," Katherine gravely observed.
"I don't care. I wanted to come, and I knew it wouldn't do to ask the professor, after what he said to you about Christian Science," said the girl, in self-justification, but flushing consciously beneath the look of disapproval in her companion's eyes. "I think the service was just lovely," she went on, glibly. "How happy all those people seemed—as if there wasn't a thing in the world to trouble them. And that 'silent prayer'!—it just made me think of Elijah and the 'still small voice,' after the tempest and the earthquake. I was sorry when it was over."
"I am glad you enjoyed the services, Jennie. They are always very restful to me, and Sunday is my day to be marked with a 'white stone' for that reason," and there was a look of peace in the soft, brown eyes that assured Jennie of the truth of her words.
"Oh, I think Sunday is a bore, as a rule," she observed, with another shrug. "I'm always lonesome if I don't go to church, and, if I do, I never know 'where I am at'—as the Irishman put it— after listening to a long sermon. That was a queer idea, though, in the lesson to-day, about there being only one Mind in the universe. Where do you get your authority for that, Miss Minturn?"
"There is but one God, who is Spirit or Mind, and He is omnipresent," Katherine explained.