ntain harmony in the family.

"That's all right, Charley. Drop it there," said Mrs. Kronborg. "No use
spoiling your Sunday dinner with race prejudices. The Mexicans suit me
and Thea very well. They are a useful people. Now you can just talk
about something else."

Conversation, however, did not flourish at that dinner. Everybody ate as
fast as possible. Charley and Gus said they had engagements and left the
table as soon as they finished their apple pie. Anna sat primly and ate
with great elegance. When she spoke at all she spoke to her father,
about church matters, and always in a commiserating tone, as if he had
met with some misfortune. Mr. Kronborg, quite innocent of her
intentions, replied kindly and absent-mindedly. After the dessert he
went to take his usual Sunday afternoon nap, and Mrs. Kronborg carried
some dinner to a sick neighbor. Thea and Anna began to clear the table.

"I should think you would show more consideration for father's position,
Thea," Anna began as soon as she and her sister were alone.

Thea gave her a sidelong glance. "Why, what have I done to father?"

"Everybody at Sunday-School was talking about you going over there and
singing with the Mexicans all night, when you won't sing for the church.
Somebody heard you, and told it all over town. Of course, we all get the
blame for it."

"Anything disgraceful about singing?" Thea asked with a provoking yawn.

"I must say you choose your company! You always had that streak in you,
Thea. We all hoped that going away would improve you. Of course, it
reflects on father when you are scarcely polite to the nice people here
and make up to the rowdies."

"Oh, it's my singing with the Mexicans you object to?" Thea put down a
tray full of dishes. "Well, I like to sing over there, and I don't like
to over here. I'll sing for them any time they ask me to. They know
something about what I'm doing. They're a talented people."

"Talented!" Anna made the word sound like escaping steam. "I suppose you
think it's smart to come home and throw that at your family!"

Thea picked up the tray. By this time she was as white as the Sunday
tablecloth. "Well," she replied in a cold, even tone, "I'll have to
throw it at them sooner or later. It's just a question of when, and it
might as well be now as any time." She carried the tray blindly into the
kitchen.

Tillie, who was always listening and looking out for her, took the
dishes from her with a furtive, frigh