by calling it Christianity."

When this was all repeated, as inwardly she hoped it would be, they
could not believe her to be the same Sally. Mrs. Bishop came out into
the hall where she and Maurie were waiting for the vehicle which was
to convey them to the station.

"You're not going to say good-bye, Sally?" she asked, drawing her
aside into the dining-room.

"I saw no necessity. Wouldn't it be a farce?"

"You can talk like that when you're never going to see me again?"

"I don't see why stating a fact should be unsuitable to the occasion.
It would be a farce. You hate me--I'm not fond of you. Yet you would
be willing to kiss me--make a sentimental good-bye of it, because
you want to do what you know is wrong--cruel, unkind--in the most
Christian-like way."

Here indeed was the spirit of Janet speaking from Sally's lips. The
contrast, in fact, which induced Janet to preach her philosophy to
Sally, was now apparent to Sally herself, between her and her mother.
She saw through all the little petty sentimentalities, all the false
self-deceits with which the worldly mind of many a clergyman's wife
shields itself from rebuke.

"How dare you say such things to me, Sally?" she whispered. "Do you
absolutely forget that I'm your mother; that in pain and agony I
brought you into the world, and nursed and fed you to life?"

"No, I don't forget that," said Sally, quietly. "But why do you think
so much of yourself? Why can't you think a little of that poor woman
up in London, trying to shield Maurie from all the horror of this
divorce case which now so easily may come to his ears? Why can't you
let her leave him here in peace? She suffered just the same agony
as you; but she's suffering it still--and you--you're as hard as you
can be."

Mrs. Bishop paled with anger. Accusations, epithets, abuse, were the
only words that bubbled to her lips.

"You're just as much a fool as your father!" she said chokingly. "He
reduced us to this because he was a fool!"

"You know where it's written," Sally remarked, "'He that calleth his
brother a fool.'" In a text-quoting atmosphere, she felt that a
remark of this kind would carry more weight.

"Yes; but are you my brother? That's identically the same sort of
remark that your father would have made."

"I see," said Sally, "you read your Bible literally. All good
Christians do--sometimes. And you could call father a fool! If you
had half the Christianity in you that he had in him,