Even Lottie joined heartily in the general laugh at her expense,
and the preposterous imposition she was asked to attempt, but
said dubiously: "I fear I could not act successfully the role of
Puritan maiden, when I have always been in reality just the opposite.
And yet it would be grand sport to make the attempt, and a decided
novelty. But surely your cousin cannot be so verdant but that he
would soon see through our mischief and detect the fraud."

"Well," replied Addie, "Frank, as I remember him, is a singularly
unsuspicious mortal. Even as a boy his head was always in the
clouds. He has not seen much society save that of his mother and
an old-maid sister. Moreover, he is so dreadfully pious, and life
with him such a solemn thing, that unless we are very bungling he
will not even imagine such frivolity, as he would call it, until
the truth is forced upon him. Then there will be a scene. You will
shock him then, Lottie, to your heart's content. He will probably
tell you that he is dumbfounded, and that he would not believe that
a young woman in this Christian land could trifle with such solemn
realities,--that is, himself and his feelings."

"But I don't think it would be quite right," protested Bel, feebly.

Mr. Harcourt lifted his eyebrows.

"Nonsense! Suppose it is not," said Lottie, impatiently.

"But, Addie," persisted Bel, "he will be your guest."

"No he won't. He's mother's guest, and I feel like punishing them
both."