didn't understand all she said, but it sounded irresistible. Oh, she
was lovely to me."

"She shouldn't have talked to you like that," protested David quickly.
"She is not fair to our people. She can not understand them because
they live sweet, simple lives where home and church are throned. New
thought is not necessary to them because they are full of the old, old
thought of training their babies, and keeping their homes, and
worshiping God. And I know the kind of people she meets down-town,--a
sort of high-class Bohemia where everybody flirts with everybody else
in the name of art. You wouldn't care for it."

Carol adroitly changed the subject, and David said no more.

The next day, quite accidentally, she met Mrs. Waldemar on the corner
and they had a soda together at the drug store. That night after
prayer-meeting David had to tarry for a deacons' meeting, and Carol and
Mrs. Waldemar sauntered off alone, arm in arm, and waited in Mrs.
Waldemar's hammock until David appeared.

And David did not see anything wonderful in the dark, deep eyes at
all,--they looked downright wicked to him. He took Carol away
hurriedly, and questioned her feverishly to find out if Mrs. Waldemar
had put any fresh nonsense into her pretty little head.

Day after day passed by and David began going around the block to avoid
Mrs. Waldemar's hammock. Her advanced thoughts, expressed to him, old
and settled and quite mature, were only amusing. But when she poured
the vials of her emancipation on little, innocent, trusting Carol,--it
was--well, David called it "pure down meanness." She was trying to