"The Bible makes no exceptions," interrupted Mary gently; "it is not because of the reasonableness of our parents' commands that we are required to obey them, but because it is the will of God."
"You certainly are a Methodist—there's no denying it. I have fought some hard battles for you, but I see I must give you up. The thing won't conceal." This was said with such an air of vexation that Mary burst into a fit of laughter.
"And yet you are the oddest compound," continued her cousin, "so gay and comical, and so little given to be shocked and scandalised at the wicked ways of others; or to find fault and lecture; or, in short, to do any of the insufferable things that your good people are so addicted to. I really don't know what to think of you."
"Think of me as a creature with too many faults of her own to presume to meddle with those of others," replied Mary, smiling at her cousin's perplexity.
"Well, if all good people were like you, I do believe I should become a saint myself. If you are right, I must be wrong; but fifty years hence we shall settle that matter with spectacles on nose over our family Bibles. In the meantime the business of the ball-room is much more pressing. We really must decide upon something. Will you choose your own style, or shall I leave it to Madame Trieur to do us up exactly alike?"
"You have only to choose for yourself, my dear cousin," answered Mary. "You know I have no interest in it—at least not till I have received my mother's permission."
"I have told you already there is no chance of obtaining it. I had a brouillerie with her on the subject before I came to you."
"Then I entreat you will not say another word. It is a thing of so little consequence, that I am quite vexed to think that my mother should have been disturbed about it. Dear Lady Emily, if you love me, promise that you will not say another syllable on the subject."
"And this is all the thanks I get for my trouble and vexation," exclaimed Lady Emily, angrily; "but the truth is, I believe you think it would be a sin to go to a ball; and as for dancing—oh, shocking! That would be absolute —-. I really can't say the bad word you good people are so fond of using."
"I understand your meaning," answered Mary, laughing; "but, indeed, I have no such apprehensions. On the contrary, I am very fond of dancing; so fond, that I have often taken Aunt Nicky for my partner in a Strathspey rather than sit still—and, to confess my weakness, I should like very much to go to a ball."