"Forgive her," entreated Mrs. Sanderson, "I would not have missed it for a great deal, and although it seems unfortunate that our romantic philanthropy is often quenched by a downpour of common sense, yet it is perhaps safest for the world after all. I shall never cease to enjoy your story, Miss Ethel. When my sympathies threaten to melt my judgments I shall think of your theological heathen who rose superior to his instructors, able to grasp so cleverly the pleasant features of Christianity without its inconveniences." When Mrs. Sanderson finished her irreligious sally, Miss Walton's pained, shocked expression was most apparent. She concentrated her attention upon her jelly, with a well-bred annoyance that was readily understood by the offender. The calculating woman, with no desire to anger the truly conscientious girl, whose sectarian delight in the teachings of her church made it impossible for her to tolerate the semblance of skepticism, gracefully shifted the conversation to the engrossing cotillion, afterward bearing down with conciliatory intent upon the Christmas bazar soon to be held by the Guild of Miss Margaret's church. "We will all come," she said, as we left the table. "One soon loses step with events in San Gabriel, but the bazar will help us to catch up with the world," she added, mirthfully. That Mrs. Sanderson was a scoffer of the most captivating and dangerous type can not be denied. She loved to ridicule uninteresting things and commonplace people; and doubtless this fact accounted for the dearth of friends answering to her own age. It was to unthinking youth that the flashing sarcasms and stinging flings at established usages and sacred traditions appeared the embodiment of brilliant repartee. In complete contradiction to her caustic beliefs, she seemed to the young the soul of sincerity, working ever the most unselfish conditions for their enjoyment. Mrs. Sanderson disliked old people inhumanly, while she courted, with every possible inducement, the society of the young.