"
"Hush, Faustina!" said Miss Macy.
"It's fair," said Miss Bentley.
"You had better not talk about Christian grace, girls. That
isn't a matter of opinion."
"Oh, isn't it!" cried St. Clair, half rising up in her bed.
"What is it, then?"
Nobody answered.
"I say! — Macy, what _is_ Christian grace — if you know? If you
_don't_ know, I'll put you in the way to find out."
"How shall I find out?"
"Will you do it, if I show it to you?"
"Yes."
"Ask Randolph. That's the first step. Ask her, — yes! just ask
her, if you want to know. I wish Mme. Ricard was here to hear
the answer."
"Nonsense!" said Macy.
"Ask her! You said you would. Now ask her."
"What _is_ Christian grace, Daisy?" said Miss Bentley.
I heard, but I would not answer. I hoped the storm would blow
over, after a puff or two. But Black-eyes, without any ill-
nature, I think, which was not in her, had got into the gale.
She slipped out of bed and came to my side, putting her hand
on my shoulder and bringing her laughing mouth down near my
ear.
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