well, that the ev'dence against you is most in-crim-i-na-ting!"
Patience delighted in big words.

"Hilary," Pauline broke in, "I forgot to tell you, I met Mrs. Dane this
morning; she wants us to get up a social--'If the young ladies at the
parsonage will,' and so forth."

"I hate socials! Besides, there aren't any 'young ladies' at the
parsonage; or, at any rate, only one. I shan't have to be a young lady
for two years yet."

"Most in-crim-i-na-ting!" Patience repeated insistently; "you wrote."

Pauline turned abruptly and going into the pantry began taking down the
cups and saucers for the table. As soon as Hilary had gone back to the
sitting-room, she called softly, "Patty, O Patty!"

Patience grinned wickedly; she was seldom called Patty, least of all by
Pauline. "Well?" she answered.

"Come here--please," and when Patience was safely inside the pantry,
Pauline shut the door gently--"Now see here, Impatience--"

"That isn't what you called me just now!"

"Patty then--Listen, suppose--suppose I have been--trying to do
something to--to help Hilary to get well; can't you see that I wouldn't
want her to know, until I was sure, really sure, it was going to come
to something?"