“Maybe, nice Nanny,” Cis assented lightly. “I’m so full of pep that I don’t crave anything that life can’t give, and I don’t think I’m a great sinner, honest! I’m pretty square; I tell the truth; I hate lowness; I don’t harm people, I even like to oil other people’s springs when the going’s hard. I don’t know exactly what religion does mean to me; I’ve got some, at least I’d never be anything but Catholic, but I can’t see why I’m not living a decent life, better than some people’s who are at confession every couple of weeks or so.” “Of course, Cis, and you’re a peach; you know what I think of you, part of it, anyway. But that’s not all of it. I’m no good at explaining, but all that’s just this world,” Nan faltered; she could have made her meaning clearer, but she shrank from preaching to Cis. “This world it is, Nancy Bell! Where else is our address? I’ve heard about it; you mean what they say in church about ‘natural virtues.’ Well, I’d like to know who created nature, what’s wrong with natural virtue? It’s a nice, natural thing to be jolly, and kindly, and not jealous, or hen-minded--hen-minded and snake-acting! And you’ve got to own up that some pious people are just as jealous and harsh as can be, wouldn’t deal half as decently with other folks as Cis, the Sinner! So that same Cis can’t feel she’s so awfully a sinner! As to saying good-bye to Father Lennon, why on earth should I bother him and myself, now I’m going away, when I never saw him to talk to him when I was here?” Cis flicked a scarf into Nan’s face, adding: “Smile awhile, Nancy! I may be headed wrong, but I’m not dying, and perhaps I’ll brace up and turn saintly before Father Lennon--or someone else--comes to say good-bye to me for good and all!” “You’re so big and brave and daring; you’re like a soldier! I can’t bear to have you miss connections, Cis.” Nan said softly. “Not enlist.” “Nice Nanny!” Cis began again, then held up her hand. “Footsteps on the stairs, strange ones! Nan, they’re coming this way! Think the company is sorry, and is sending me an appointment in the main office?” Cis opened her door to a boy who knocked, a messenger boy. “Miss Cicely Adair,” said the boy, glancing from one to the other girl. “Answer. I wait--R. S. V. P., see?” “I see!” cried Cis, smiling at the boy in perfect sympathy with his boyhood. “I’m the lady you seek! Sit down--but for goodness’ sake don’t sit on my best hat! I’ll read, then I’ll write--maybe!” She tore open the envelope addressed to her in an unknown, feminine hand, an unusual hand, full of character and refinement; she drew forth its contents. “Well, Nan!” exclaimed Cis. “It’s from Miss Lucas! Here, read it!” Then she threw on the floor a pile of articles which covered a straight chair’s seat, shoved back other things from the table end, and wrote: