"Yes."

"I don't see why mother wouldn't go. Mother never goes out anywhere,
and she isn't nearly as old as your aunts."

Lily and Maria seated themselves in the sitting-room before the
stove. Lily looked at Maria, and a faint red overspread her cheeks.
She began to speak, then she hesitated, and evidently said something
which she had not intended.

"How pretty that is!" she said, pointing to a great oleander-tree in
flower, which was Aunt Maria's pride.

"Yes, I think it is pretty."

"Lovely. The very prettiest one I ever saw." Lily hesitated again,
but at last she began to speak, with the red on her cheeks brighter
and her eyes turned away from Maria. "I wanted to tell you something,
Maria," said she.

"Well?" said Maria. Her own face was quite pale and motionless. She
was doing some fancy-work, embroidering a centre-piece, and she
continued to take careful stitches.

"I know you thought I was awful, doing the way I did last night,"
said Lily, in her sweet murmur. She drooped her head, and the flush
on her oval cheeks was like the flush on a wild rose. Lily wore a
green house-dress, which set her off as the leaves and stem set off a
flower. It was of some soft material which clung about her and
displayed her tender curves. She wore at her throat an old cameo
brooch which had belonged to her grandmother, and which had upon its
onyx background an ivory head as graceful as her own. Maria, beside
Lily, although she herself was very pretty, looked ordinary in her
flannel blouse and black skirt, which was her school costume.

Maria continued taking careful stitches in the petals of a daisy
which she was embroidering. "I think we have talked enough about it,"
she said.

"But I want to tell you something."

"Why don't you tell it, then?"

"I know you thought I did something awful, running across the yard
and coming here in the night the way I did, and showing you that
I--I, well, that I minded George Ramsey's coming home with you;
but--look here, Maria, I--had a little reason."

Maria paled perceptibly, but she kept on steadily with her work.

Lily flushed more deeply. "George Ramsey has been home with me from
evening meeting quite a number of times," she said.

"Has he?" said Maria.

"Yes. Of course we were walking the same way. He may not really have
meant to see me home." There was a sort of innate honesty in Lily
which always led her to retrieve the lapses from the strict truth
when in her favor. "M