"Perhaps he didn't think of it," she replied, giving the first thought that occurred to her.
"That isn't the reason," returned Marjorie, "for he could think of everything he wanted to."
"Then—for the same reason why didn't he tell them about chloroform and printing and telegraphing and a thousand other inventions?" questioned Linnet in her turn.
"That's what I want to know," said Marjorie.
Linnet settled herself on the turf and drew her work from her pocket; she was making a collar of tatting for her mother's birthday and working at it at every spare moment. It was the clover leaf pattern, that she had learned but a few weeks ago; the thread was very fine and she was doing it exquisitely. She had shown it to Hollis because he was in the lace business, and he had said it was a fine specimen of "real lace." To make real lace was one of Linnet's ambitions. The lace around Marjorie's neck was a piece that their mother had made towards her own wedding outfit. Marjorie's mother sighed and feared that Marjorie would never care to make lace for her wedding outfit.
Linnet frowned over her clover leaf and Marjorie watched Miss Prudence as she turned the leaves. Marjorie did not care for the clover leaf, only as she was interested in everything that Linnet's fingers touched, but Linnet did care for the answer to Marjorie's question. She thought perhaps it was about the wheat.
The Bible leaves were still, after a second Miss Prudence read:
"'For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ.'"
That was not the answer, Linnet thought.
"What does that mean to you, Marjorie?" asked Miss Prudence.