"Ah, has he not!" sighed Cathy, and the dark, brilliant eyes looked very serious for a moment. "He says we girls at the present day have such a low standard of right that we never rise above medium goodness, and are too easily satisfied with ourselves. He is always saying we have no great saints now-a-days, and that there can be no St. Augustines without Monicas." "It is very true." "Oh, he is such a good man, he makes one feel ashamed of one's self. When he talks one forgets his patched coat and plain face and bald head. I used to laugh when he pushed his spectacles up in that droll way, but somehow nothing seems odd about him now." "And he is not married?" "No, he is an old bachelor, and Miss Cosie keeps his house. I don't think he has ever been in love; Miss Cosie said so one day; he has never been able to find a woman with a sufficiently high standard, I suppose. Even Langley would not suit him, though I believe he thinks very highly of her; they have such long, serious talks. Queenie, do you recollect remarking one day that I never used slang now?" "To be sure I do." "Well, he cured me." "Oh, I can comprehend the purport of the lectures now." "Yes, he gravely remonstrated with me one day. 'Miss Catherine,' he once said, 'does it never strike you to inquire if the high-born ladies of old time ever talked slang?'" "Well, I hope you answered him properly." "No, I was very saucy; I told him I had no doubt they were often 'awfully jolly,' and were fast and slow and spoony no end like other people, and some of the men dreadful duffers and cads." "Cathy, how could you?" "My dear, it was the last outburst. Before an hour was over I was fairly crushed, and took a private vow never to utter anything but the purest English ever afterwards. It was very hard at first, and I had to inflict dreadful pinches on myself, and put endless pennies in the poor's box, before I could remember; but I am cured since." "Yes, and it is such an improvement; I feel very much obliged to Mr. Logan." "I took my revenge though," returned Cathy, looking a little guilty; "I went away without bidding him good-bye." "That was hardly kind." "So he said. I was very remorseful, and wrote him a penitent little note a week afterwards. The letter I got in return made me feel very small." "I dare say he forgave you." "Dear old Saint Christopher, I know he did; but he was terribly hurt; Langley told me so. I often think we are 'old men of the mountain' to ourselves. How one longs sometimes to throw off one's self and one's faults!" "You have less than any one I know," returned Queenie, who had a warm admiration for the daring and generous-hearted girl. "You are wrong," returned Cathy, humbly; "Mr. Logan knows me best. I do want to be true, as true as I know how to be. I think I hate conventional shams as much as he does; it is this want of truth in the world that appals one."