struck him as indecorous in the extreme, and he
turned his eyes away. They met Celia's; and
there was something latent in their brown depths
which prompted him, after a brief dalliance of
interchanging glances, to look again at the swings.

"That old maid Curran is really too ridiculous,
with those white stockings of hers," remarked
Celia; "some friend ought to tell her to dye
them."

"Or pad them," suggested Father Forbes, with
a gay little chuckle. "I daresay the question of
swings and ladies' stockings hardly arises with you,
over at the camp-meeting, Mr. Ware?"

Theron laughed aloud at the conceit. "I
should say not!" he replied.

"I'm just dying to see a camp-meeting!" said
Celia. "You hear such racy accounts of what
goes on at them."

"Don't go, I beg of you!" urged Theron, with
doleful emphasis. "Don't let's even talk about
them. I should like to feel this afternoon as if
there was no such thing within a thousand miles
of me as a camp-meeting. Do you know, all this
interests me enormously. It is a revelation to me
to see these thousands of good, decent, ordinary
people, just frankly enjoying themselves like human
beings. I suppose that in this whole huge crowd
there isn't a single person who will mention the
subject of his soul to any other person all day
long."

-355-