“Una Golden.”
“Miss uh Miss?”
“I didn’t quite—”
“Miss or Mrs., I said. Can’t you understand English?”
“See here, I’m not being sent to jail that I know of!” Una rose, tremblingly.
Mrs. Fike merely waited and snapped: “Sit down. You look as though you had enough sense to understand that we can’t let people we don’t know anything about enter a decent place like this.... Miss or Mrs., I said?”
“Miss,” Una murmured, feebly sitting down again.
“What’s your denomination?... No agnostics or Catholics allowed!”
Una heard herself meekly declaring, “Methodist.”
“Smoke? Swear? Drink liquor? Got any bad habits?”