The following Sunday was Easter day—it came late this year. Cynthia, sitting in the Franklin pew, saw to her dismay Tony Bronson on the other side of the church. He was with the Morgans.
"Dear me," thought Cynthia, "there will be more trouble now that he has come, for he will tell hateful things about Neal, I'm sure. I do hope Edith won't see him."
Her thoughts wandered during the service. When it was over, and the congregation streamed out of church into the mild spring air, the Morgans invited Edith to come home with them to dinner. This she agreed to do, much to her sister's disgust; but Cynthia was still further incensed when Edith came back that afternoon and announced, in a would-be careless manner, that she had promised to drive with Tony Bronson the next day.
"Why, Edith!" said Cynthia, indignantly; "I shouldn't think you would have anything to do with that Bronson. He has been hateful to Neal."'
"I don't know why you should say that," returned Edith; "any one would say that he had been exceedingly nice to Neal. He lent him all that money, I'm sure. And, besides, what difference does it make? Neal has behaved badly and run away. There is no reason why we should give up people that Neal doesn't happen to like. Papa said the other day that Tony Bronson was a very good sort of fellow, because he wasn't in that last scrape of Neal's."
"Papa doesn't know a thing about him, and, at any rate, papa wouldn't let you go to drive if he were at home. You know he wouldn't."
Mrs. Franklin came into the room just at this moment.
"Would not let Edith go to drive, Cynthia?" she said. "What do you mean, dear?"
"Go to drive with strange men like that Bronson."
"What nonsense!" said Edith, crossly; "of course I can go. Papa never in his life forbade my going to drive with any of the boys. How silly you are, Cynthia!"