“I have found, Aunt Nannie,” said Sylvia, “that there are worse afflictions than being talked about.” “I am not sure,” declared the other, “that anything could be worse than to be the object of the kind of gossip that is now seething around our family. It has been the tradition of our people to bear their afflictions in silence.” “In this case, Aunt Nannie, it is obvious that silence would have meant more afflictions, many more. I have thought of my sister--and of all the other girls in our family, who may be led to sacrifice by the ambitions of their relatives.” Sylvia paused a moment, so that her words might have effect. Said the bishop’s wife: “Sylvia, we cannot undertake to save the world from the results of its sins. God has his own ways of punishing men.” “Perhaps so, but surely God does not wish the punishment to fall upon innocent young girls. For instance, Aunt Nannie, think of your own daughters----” “My daughters!” broke out Mrs. Chilton. And then, mastering her excitement: “At least, you will permit me to look after my own children.” “I noticed, my dear aunt, that Lucy May turned colour when Tom Aldrich came into the room last night. Have you noticed anything?” “Yes--what of it?” “It means that Lucy May is falling in love with Tom.” “Why should she not? I certainly consider him an eligible man.” “And yet you know, Aunt Nannie, that he is one of Roger Peyton’s set. You know that he goes about town getting drunk with the gayest of them, and you let Lucy May go on and fall in love with him! You have taken no steps to find out about him--you have not warned your daughter--” Mrs. Chilton was crimson with agitation. “Warned my daughter! Who ever heard of such a thing?” Said Sylvia, quietly: “I can believe that you never heard of it--but you will hear soon. The other day I had a talk with Lucy May--” “Sylvia Castleman!” And then it seemed Mrs. Chilton reminded herself that she was dealing with a dangerous lunatic. “Sylvia,” she said, in a suppressed voice, “you mean to tell me that you have been poisoning my young daughter’s mind--” “You have brought her up well,” said Sylvia, as her aunt stopped for lack of words. “She did not want to listen to me. She said that young girls ought not to know about such matters. But I pointed out Elaine, and then she changed her mind--just as you will have to change yours in the end, Aunt Nannie.” Mrs. Chilton sat glaring at her niece, her bosom heaving. Then suddenly she turned her indignant eyes upon Mrs. Castleman. “Margaret, cannot you stop this shocking business? I demand that the tongues of gossip shall no longer clatter around the family of which I am a member! My husband is the bishop of this diocese, and if our ancient and untarnished name is of no importance to Sylvia van Tuiver, then, perhaps the dignity and authority of the church may have some weight----”