e, was making a polite and
necessary social call upon its inmates.

Miss Eliza gave him a most vigorous tongue-lashing--before he was quite
seated she began it--for going to dances. She considered him headed
straight for destruction and had had no opportunity to tell him so. She
had seen him but once since he came back from that visit to Arethusa.

"Arethusa dances; ask her to tell you what it's like," he said, most
ungraciously.

It was a horrid trick, altogether unworthy of him; but then Timothy was
young and things were going hard with him these days. And Miss Eliza's
tongue was very sharp; it cut.

So Miss Eliza immediately attacked Arethusa.

"Timothy's of course mistaken. I imagined you'd be going to places
where other people did such things, that probably couldn't be helped in
a city, but I know you wouldn't so far forget all I've tried to teach
you as to indulge in it yourself. It's just public hugging, that's all
it is, dancing nowadays!"

"But she did," put in Timothy. "I saw her."

"I can answer for myself, thank you, Timothy Jarvis!" Arethusa said
this with a bit of her old asperity. "Yes, I danced, Aunt 'Liza; Father
and Mother let me and they didn't think anything was wrong with it."

"Well, I must say! This beats anything I ever heard! I'm not surprised
at Ross Worthington, for he was always a bit free in his ideas; but his
wife certainly ought to know better than to allow a young girl to take
part in such goings on! I must say! I must say!" Miss Eliza's glasses
left her nose entirely in her excitement. "What else did you do in the
City that you haven't told us about?"

And then ... Arethusa, to the great amazement of everybody, suddenly
burst into tears and ran out of the room.

"What on earth ails the child?" inquired Miss Letitia, anxiously.
"She's not the least bit like herself!"

"She needs a tonic," answered Miss Eliza decidedly. "I'll see that she
begins it, tomorrow. All that carrying-on in the City! Ross Worthington
ought to've been ashamed of himself to set by and allow it!" She shut
her mouth very grimly. "I'll see to it that she doesn't go there soon
again!"

"But he's her father, Sister," interposed Miss Asenath softly; "you
must remember that."

"He's her father, 'Senath, and I can't dispute it. But he's an awful
unnatural one, the way _I_ look at things! And I reckon, when you
get right down to it, Arethusa's just as much my child as she is
anybody's, seeing how I've taken