"Never," said the girl. "Well, it is a peculiar law. You know there are some States that try to restrain the sale of intoxicants. We don't here. They are as free as water. My cook can order them over the telephone. Unfortunately, he has a weakness for them." A suppressed smile went around the table, and Derrice saw that some sarcasm was intended. "There's fruit, I suppose," said Miss Gastonguay to Prosperity; "get us some, if O'Toole hasn't taken it under the stove; and you had better get him out and put him to bed. Chelda, you go look after things, will you?" The young lady left her seat, and as serenely and gracefully as if intoxicated cooks were every-day occurrences made her way kitchenwards. "Now what is the matter with you?" said Miss Gastonguay, directing her attention to Justin, who had risen, and was standing beside her. "I am due at a prayer-meeting." "A prayer-meeting! What did you accept my invitation for if you couldn't stay?" "I will come back if you will permit me," he said, in a manner quite courtly. "Well, go. You will graciously allow your wife to remain?" "Certainly; we should not have come if she had not decided to do so," and, with a bow, he left the room. "What about you, Mr. Huntington?" asked Miss Gastonguay. He shrugged his shoulders. "To tell the truth, I forgot about it when you sent me your note to-day. However, it is only a young people's meeting. I do not need to go." There was a slight levity in his tone, and Miss Gastonguay, after a keen scrutiny of his flushed face, turned to Derrice. "Do you ever go to prayer-meetings?" "I was at one last evening." "What did you think of it?" "It was very interesting." "Come, now, tell me what it was like." "There was a large room under a church," said Derrice, seriously, "with seats. Mr. Huntington was there," and she indicated him as he sat gazing with a softened expression at her. "Of course; what next?" "He read a hymn and some one played an organ accompaniment and the people sang." "'Hark from the tombs a doleful sound,' I suppose, or, 'High o'er my soul damnation's waves do roll.'" "Miss Gastonguay," interposed Aurelia, "those are very old hymns; no one sings them now." "What did you sing?" persisted Miss Gastonguay. "We sang something beginning 'Jesus, lover of my soul,'" murmured Derrice. "Never mind the rest. Tell me how the meeting impressed you. It was your first, I suppose." "Yes, I never was at anything of the kind before. May I speak freely?" and she doubtfully scanned her audience. "Of course," said her hostess. "I am new to what is called religious life. It seemed marvellous to me that men could get up one after another--and even women--and talk so openly of what was in their hearts." "Cant,--a great lot of it, cant and rubbish. They would cheat you the next day." "My husband would not cheat," said Derrice, mildly. "He is an exception."