"Oh, you bad General," cried Rosalie, laughing. "Now I can not blame it on any one but myself, and I did so want to sympathize with myself, and say, 'I can dance wonderfully, but they won't let me.' Oh, well, I should worry. And, General, by the way, I may as well confess that I was jealous of you last night. You were so different, and so remote--every one had to go to you, away from the whirl, back into your corner where you stood serene. I kept thinking what a nice manse type you are, always distinct, always different, and sweeter than anything. So I had already decided--I just wanted to find out what you would say." Then Rosalie was gone in a flash, chasing Zee out into the garden for a merry frolic. CHAPTER III THE IMP "Why, Zee, however did you happen to get here ahead of time?" demanded Doris, glancing up from the potatoes she was watching so closely, for potatoes have a most annoying way of burning if you leave them a minute. It had taken Doris a long time to learn that. "Um, yes, I am a little early, I guess," said Zee, in a still small voice. She busied herself about the table without reminder from her sister, an unwonted procedure for the Imp, but Doris was too concerned with the meal to pay much heed. Rosalie and Treasure came in together a few moments later, and Zee was sent to call their father to the table. "And don't dawdle, Babe, for things are piping hot, and we must allow three minutes for the blessing, you know." Zee's appetite, usually above reproach, was negligible that day, and her gay voice, always so persistent in conversation, was quite subdued. But when the meal was over she lifted modest eyes to her father's face. "I hope you aren't very exceptionally busy to-day, father," she began ingratiatingly. "I am. I have Davison's funeral to-morrow--and it is not easy to conduct the funeral services of a bad man in a way that will afford comfort to his mourning relatives." "I knew you would have a hard time of it, father," said Doris sympathetically. "I was hoping they would get some one else-- The Methodist minister is new here, and doesn't know Davison as we did." "One good thing about him, father," said Rosalie, "he never killed any one that we know of. You can come down strong on that, and sort of glide over everything else we know about him." "I suppose one should come out flat-footed and hold him up as a model to other people who won't keep to the straight and narrow," said Doris thoughtfully. "Perhaps. But a kind Providence has made it unnecessary for us to judge, you must remember." "We can have our opinions, like other people, but we must not air them in the pulpit," said Rosalie. "But whatever will you say, father? He was everything a good Presbyterian is not, and--" "Doctor Burgess used to say that death blots out all evil," said Rosalie helpfully. "Can't you play that up?"