"Once," she replied, with a graceful flounce. "But I danced out."
"Danced out, did you say?"
"Yes. I got religion in the fall and lost it in the winter—by going to a ball and dancing."
"Why," said the preacher, slowly, patting his knee, "that did not cause you to lose it."
"Well, that's what they said, anyway. And I know I cried after I got home because my religion was gone."
"It is a crime to teach such rubbish."
"Then you don't think I lost it?"
"Surely not."
"Then I must have it yet," she cried, clapping her hands.
"Miss Agnes, your purity is of itself a religion."