ut how about the other mornings and all the afternoons?" I inquired,
with the effrontery of a hardened sinner seizing his opportunity to take
a saint to task.

Josephine blushed, partly from guilt and partly from indignation. "It
rained torrents last Sunday morning, and Sunday morning fortnight--er--I
was sick. I remember that I was all dressed to go one afternoon when old
Mr. Philipps called and I didn't like to leave him. Besides, I feel as
though I ought to stay at home occasionally on Sunday afternoons in order
to teach the children the Scriptures. The Sunday morning before
that--er--I went. No, it must have been a fortnight previous, for I
recollect now that I had planned to go, when you said that you hated to
skate alone and declined to take the entire responsibility of the
children on the pond on account of little Fred and the pickerel."

"And I said, too, I remember, that in all probability there wouldn't be
black ice again all winter."

"You did, you did," my darling cried, with tragic impetuosity, "and it is
cruel of you to remind me of it."

"Moreover, it was a correct prophecy. It snowed that very night and the
people who waited until Monday were nowhere."

"Oh, Fred, Fred, I'm a wicked woman. You're the last person in the world
who ought to tax me with it, but it is true. I don't go to church as I
ought. And yet I do mean to go. But if it isn't one thing which
prevents, it's another. Lucille must have every other Sunday morning,
and you seem so disappointed if I refuse to go skating or canoeing with
you and the children on the fine days that I foolishly yield."

"And you the daughter of a deacon," I continued, unsparingly. Let me
state by way of explanation that Josephine's late father was for many
years one of the pillars of the religious society to which he belonged.

"I know, I know. It is shameful. I--we are little better than heathens,
Fred. Only think of it, four times in three months!" she added, glancing
at the tell-tale sheet. "And I brought up to go regularly both morning
and afternoon in addition to Sunday-school! I am a heathen; and as for
you, I don't know what to call you!" she exclaimed, with a sad,
reproachful smile.

So long as Josephine was content to berate herself without including me
in her anathemas, I had been ready to acquiesce in what she said, but now
that she seemed disposed to drag me into the conversation I felt it
incumbent upon me to reply with dignity