"I say," cried Herbert, half mockingly, "what religion do you call yourself?"
She took the question literally. "I am a Catholic or Protestant as is agreeable to my places," was the very candid answer. "I am not a dévote—a saint. Where's the use of it?"
"That is why you generally have those violent headaches on Sunday," said Herbert Dare, laughing. "You ought——"
There was an interruption. Rosa Dare's footsteps were heard on the stairs, and they halted at the door.
"Mademoiselle!" she called out.
Mademoiselle did not answer. Herbert Dare flung his handkerchief over the handle of the door in a manner that hid the key-hole. Rosa Dare tried the door, found it fastened, and went off grumbling.
"It's my belief mademoiselle locks herself in there to get a nap after dinner, as mamma does in the dining-room!"
She was heard to enter the drawing-room and slam the door. Herbert softly opened that of the school-room, and went down after his sister.
"I say, Herbert," cried Rosa, when he entered, "have you seen anything of mademoiselle?"
"I!" responded Herbert. "Do you think I keep mademoiselle in my pocket?"