“Yes, I know, Sister Falconer. But the car’s crowded, and I’ll just sit down and rest myself while Brother Nichols is away—that is, if you’ll let me. Don’t know if you remember me. I’m— I met you at the tent in Sautersville. Reverend Gantry.”
“Oh,” indifferently. Then, quickly: “Oh, yes, you’re the Presbyterian preacher who was fired for drinking.”
“That’s absolutely—!” He saw that she was watching him, and he realized that she was not being her saintly self nor her efficient self but a quite new, private, mocking self. Delightedly he went on, “—absolutely incorrect. I’m the Christian Scientist that was fired for kissing the choir-leader on Saturday.”
“Oh, that was careless of you!”
“So you’re really human?”
“Me? Good Heavens, yes! Too human.”
“And you get tired of it?”
“Of what?”
“Of being the great Miss Falconer, of not being able to go into a drug-store to buy a tooth-brush without having the clerk holler, ‘Praise God, we have some dandy two-bit brushes, hallelujah!’ ”
Sharon giggled.