"But I hate--"

"No matter what you hate. Treat him as you please tomorrow. We need
him now;" and so the petted, wilful girl, spoiled by money and flattery,
was kept under restraint.

A great deal of preparation was required for the last two pieces on
the programme, and the young ladies grouped themselves not far off
while Dennis worked. Christine explained from time to time as the
natural leader of the party. Still an awkward silence followed the
scene above described. This restraint could not long endure, and one
of the colorless young ladies asked a question that led to more than
she intended, and indeed, more than she understood.

"Christine, what do you do with yourself Sundays? Your pew is not
occupied once in an age."

"I usually paint most of the day, and ride out with papa in the
afternoon when it is pleasant."

"Why, you are a perfect little heathen!" they all exclaimed in chorus.

"Yes, I suppose I am worse than a pagan," she said, "for I not only
do not believe in your superstitions, but have none of my own."

"What do you believe in, then?" asked Miss Winthrop.

"Art, music, fame, power."