unusual and interesting.

"From what Mr. Ball said," Mrs. Ball was gushing affectedly to Anita,
"I got an idea, that--well, really, I didn't know _what_ to think."

Anita looked as if she were about to suffocate. Allie came to the
rescue. "Not very complimentary to Mr. Blacklock, mother," said she,
good-humoredly. Then to Anita, with a simple friendliness there was no
resisting: "Wouldn't you like to come up to my room for a few
minutes?"

"Oh, thank you," responded Anita, after a quick but thorough
inspection of Alva's face, to make sure she was like her voice. I had
not counted on this; I had been assuming that Anita would not be out
of my sight until we were married. It was on the tip of my tongue to
interfere when she looked at me--for permission to go. "Don't keep her
too long," said I to Alva, and they were gone.

"You can't blame me--really you can't, Mr. Blacklock," Mrs. Ball began
to plead for herself, as soon as they were safely out of hearing.
"After some things--mere hints, you understand--for I'm careful what I
permit Mr. Ball to say before _me_. I think married people cannot be
too respectful of each other. I _never_ tolerate _vulgarity_."

"No doubt, Joe has made me out a very vulgar person," said I,
forgetting her lack of sense of humor.

"Oh, not at all, not at all, Mr. Blacklock," she protested, in a panic
lest she had done her husband damage with me. "I understand, men will
be men, though as a pure-minded woman, I'm sure I can't imagine why
they should be."

"How far off is the nearest church?" I cut in.

"Only two blocks--that is, the Methodist church," she replied. "But I
know Mr. Ball will bring an Episcopalian."

"Why, I thought you were a devoted Presbyterian," said I, recalling
how in their Brooklyn days she used to insist on Joe's going with her
twice every Sunday to sleep through long sermons.

She looked uncomfortable. "I was reared Presbyterian," she explained,
confusedly, "but you know how it is in New York. And when we came to
live here, we got out of the habit of churchgoing. And all Alva's
little friends were Episcopalians. So I drifted toward that church. I
find the service so satisfying--so--elegant. And--one sees there the
people one sees socially."

"How is your culture class?" I inquired, deliberately malicious, in my
impatience and nervousness. "And do you still take conversation
lessons?"

She was furiously annoyed. "Oh, those old jokes of Joe's," she said,
affecti