abbreviated
her name. "I shall not answer to it," she said quietly.

"Why, pray?"

"Because, I suppose, in common with the rest of the lower animals, I
have a natural repugnance to being cut in two."

"How tiresome you are!" exclaimed Isabelle with a pout. "I do not object
to my first syllable. All the girls at school call me Isa. Mamma, did
you remember to order the tulle for our wings? Claude Rivers has
finished hers and they are perfectly sweet. She showed them to me this
afternoon."

"Wings, Isabelle! What in the world are you up to now?"

"A Butterfly Social, Papa. We must raise money in some way. The church
is frightfully in debt."

"That is a deplorable fact, but I did not know butterflies were famed as
financiers."

"Oh, of course it is just for the novelty of the thing. The last social
we had was a Mother Goose, and we have had Brownie suppers and Pink teas
and everything else we could think of. We must have something to
attract, you know."

"I wonder if it really pays?" ventured Marion. "It never seems to me
there is much left, after you deduct the cost of the preparation. People
might as well give the money outright. It would save them a world of
trouble."

"Why, you silly child, it is to promote sociability in the church. As to
the trouble, of course we do not count that. We must expect to make
sacrifices."

"But they do not make the church any more sociable," said Marion boldly,
who, having struck for freedom of thought, was following up her
advantage. "The same people take part every time and the others are left
outside."

"Nonsense!" said Isabelle hotly. "It is only those who cannot afford to
take part, and think what a treat it is for them to look on!"

"A sort of half-price theatre," said Louis with a sneer.

"I don't believe they find the looking on such fun as you think," said
Marion, who was astonished at herself. "Suppose you try if they wouldn't
like to take part and offer your place in the Cantata to Jemima Dobbs."

"Well done, Sis!" and Louis applauded softly.

Isabelle's lip curled. "Upon my word, Marion, you bid fair to become as
hot an anarchist as Louise Michel. It is a mystery to me where you find
out the Christian names of all the ungainly people in the congregation.
The other sopranos would feel complimented to have a prima-donna with a
face like a full moon and hands like a blacksmith's foisted upon them!
One must have a little regard for appearances," and Isabelle dre