to come then; you know he is quite superstitious about Friday. Beside, it
is not convenient for me," she added, settling the matter once for all.

"Oh, I've no objection to Thursday," said Miss Ruth. "I don't know but
that I prefer it. Yes, we will have it on Thursday." Having thus asserted
herself, Miss Ruth began to put away her paints and cover her canvas.

"It is a pity the whist was put off to-night," said Miss Deborah; "we
could have arranged it at the rectory. But if I see Adele Dale to-morrow,
I'll tell her."

"I beg," said Miss Ruth quickly, "that you'll do nothing of the sort."

"What!" exclaimed Miss Deborah.

"We will write the invitations, if you please," said Miss Ruth loftily.

"Fiddlesticks!" retorted the other. "We'll write the Forsythes, of
course, but the people at the rectory and Adele Dale?--nonsense!"

"It is not nonsense," Miss Ruth answered; "it is _proper_, and it must be
done. I understand these things, Deborah; you are so taken up with your
cooking, you cannot really be expected to know. When you invite city
people to a formal dinner, everything must be done decently and in order.
It is not like asking the rector and Adele to drop in to tea any time."

"Fudge!" responded Miss Deborah.

A faint color began to show in Miss Ruth's faded cheek, and she set her
lips firmly. "The invitations should be written," she said.