"What in the world did he mean by 'Much obliged'?" puzzled Treasure. "It was my fault, too, for now it means another evening of hard work for him, and his evenings were so busy anyhow. And then he says 'Much obliged.' Preachers are funny, even father." Sunday afternoon in the manse was supposed to be comfortably quiet--not prosy. And for the first hour after the dinner work was finished things went smoothly indeed. The girls read their Sunday-school papers. Then Treasure and Zee had a game of Bible Prophets--enlivening it by betting pennies on the outcome--"Not gambling at all," insisted Zee. "Because the pennies go into the mission box on the kitchen shelf, no matter who wins. The only difference is, if you win, you get the credit on the Lord's account-book, and if I win, I get it." As long as Doris did not find out why that afternoon game of Prophets was one of such intense and absorbing interest to the lively girls, all went well enough. The Sabbath never failed to bring a problem for Rosalie. "Oh, General," she cried, dancing away from the telephone. "Our little crowd is going for a long auto ride out to Miriam's for supper--a nice Sunday supper of bread and jelly and milk and pie--and may I go, darling General?" "But Christian Endeavor--" "Oh, Bud promised faithfully to bring me back in time for it. The others are going to spend the evening and sing, and roast marshmallows, but out of deference to us preachers he promised to have me home by seven." "Ask father," countered Doris. "Oh, General dearest, you know father ought not to be bothered on Sunday afternoon. It wouldn't be right." "Rosalie, don't ask me. I want you to do whatever you want to, but-- How many are going?" "Twelve, I suppose. Three cars full. Bud is going to take me in his brother's runabout." "Twelve. Then it is a regular party." "Oh, not really, dearest. It will take an hour to get there, and then it will be nearly suppertime, and we will have to come right straight home afterward. You know Miriam's people are terribly religious--not like us preachers, of course, but very particular. One time they were dancing on Saturday night, and they sent us right home at midnight--they said there should be no dancing in their house on Sunday. I was there, but I did not dance." Rosalie laughed a little. "So the next Saturday night when we were there, Miriam's Aunt Gertrude turned the clock back an hour, to give us a little more time." "There would not be any dancing then, that is one thing," said Doris thoughtfully. "Well," admitted Rosalie honestly but reluctantly, "Miriam's parents are out of town, and Aunt Gertrude is the chaperon to-day." Doris looked at her in exasperation. "You bad girl, you fooled me on purpose. Run up and ask father, dear, won't you? It will only take a minute, and he won't mind. I can't settle it for you." "Oh, Doris, it would be mean," protested Rosalie conscientiously.