study opera with a view to going on the stage. The fact that she had a
light, sweet soprano adapted only to the rendition of drawing-room
ballads did not lessen in his eyes the probability of her carrying out
this resolve.

She had met his reproving expostulations in a spirit of bantering
raillery and replied with a defiance of his opinion that had pierced his
heart with arrow-like swiftness. Since then she had studiously avoided
meeting him, and he was not sure whether he was now recalled to listen
to a reiteration of her intentions or to receive an anodyne for the
bitterness of her remarks at their last interview.

"I sent for you, John," she said demurely and without preamble, "to see
if you have found a satisfactory laundress yet for the surplices."

"Colette!" he exclaimed in rebuking tone, his face reddening at her
question which he supposed to be made in mere mockery.

"I am not speaking to you as Colette King," she replied with a look half
cajoling, half flippant, "but as a teacher in the Young Woman's
Auxiliary Guild to the rector of St. Mark's. You see I no longer lead a
foolish, futile life. Here is the evidence in the case," holding up a
slender pink forefinger. "See how it is pricked! For three Saturday
afternoons I have shown little girls that smelled of fried potatoes how
to sew. I shall really learn something myself about the feminine art of
needlework if I continue in my present straight, domestic path."

"Colette, you cannot know how glad I am to hear this. Why did you try to
make me think the laundry work was--"