kle in his eye.
Just then Aunt said, icily: "We will go home, Marguer_ite_. That
creature evidently intends to persist in his intrusion."

Home we came accordingly.

This morning he signalled across: "Letter from Connie. Message for
you. I mean to deliver it personally. Do you ever go to church?"

Now, I _do_ go regularly to church at home. But Aunt Martha and Mrs.
Saxby are both such rigid church people that they would not darken the
doors of the Methodist church at Plover Sands for any consideration.
Needless to say, I am not allowed to go either. But it was impossible
to make this long explanation, so I merely replied: "Not here."

"Will you not go tomorrow morning?"

"Aunt will not let me."

"Coax her."

"Coaxing never has any effect on her."

"Would she relent if Mrs. Allardyce were to call for you?"

Now, I have been cautiously sounding Aunt about Mrs. Allardyce, and I
have discovered that she disapproves of her. So I said: "It would be
useless. I will ask Aunt if I may go, but I feel almost sure that she
will not consent."

This evening, when Aunt was in an unusually genial mood, I plucked up
heart of grace and asked her.

"Marguer_ite_," she said impressively, "you know that I do not attend
church here."

"But, Aunt," I persisted, quakingly, "couldn't I go alone? It is not
very far--and I will be very careful."

Aunt merely gave me a look that said about forty distinct and separate
things, and I was turning away in despair when Mrs. Saxby--bless her
heart--said: "I really think it would be no harm to let the child go."

As Aunt attaches great importance to Mrs. Saxby's opinion, she looked
at me relentingly and said: "Well, I will think it over and let you
know in the morning, Marguer_ite_."

Now, everything depends on the sort of humour Aunt is in in the
morning.

July Twentieth.

This morning was perfect, and after breakfast Aunt said,
condescendingly: "I think you may attend church if you wish,
Marguer_ite_. Remember that I expect you to conduct yourself with
becoming prudence and modesty."

I flew upstairs and pulled my prettiest dress out of my trunk. It is a
delicate, shimmering grey stuff with pearly tints about it. Every time
I get anything new, Aunt Martha and I have a battle royal over it. I
verily believe that Aunt would like me to dress in the fashions in
vogue in her youth. There is always a certain flavour of
old-fashionedn