"Meanwhile, the evening slipped by, and our Sunday reading had not
been accomplished. We had found little good habits less easy to
maintain in a strange household than we had thought, and this one
seemed likely to follow some others that had been allowed to slip.
The red-haired young lady had been absent for about half an hour, and
the Irishman had been prowling restlessly round the room, performing
murderous-looking fidgets with the paper-knives, when she returned
with a book in her hand, which she settled herself resolutely to read.
The Irishman gave a comical glance at the serious-looking volume, and
then, seating himself on a chair just behind her, found apparent peace
in the effort to sharpen a flat ruler on his knees. The young lady
read on. It was evident that her Sunday customs were not apt to be
disturbed by circumstances.

"I began to feel uncomfortable. Fatima was crouched down near Lucy,
listening to the history of a piece of lace. I waited some little time
to catch her eye, and then beckoned her to me.

"'We haven't read,' I whispered.

"'Dare you go?' asked Fatima.

"'We ought,' I said.

"It required more daring than may appear. To such little people as
ourselves it _was_ rather an undertaking to cross the big
drawing-room, stealing together over the soft carpet; to attack the
large, smooth handle, open the heavy door, and leave the room in the
face of the company. We did it, however, our confusion being much
increased by the Irish gentleman, who jumped up to open the door for