“I’m not sure she understands English,” suggested Lucy.

In her chastened mood she no longer despised the Emersons. She was determined to be gracious to them, beautiful rather than delicate, and, if possible, to erase Miss Bartlett’s civility by some gracious reference to the pleasant rooms.

“That woman understands everything,” was Mr. Emerson’s reply. “But what are you doing here? Are you doing the church? Are you through with the church?”

“No,” cried Lucy, remembering her grievance. “I came here with Miss Lavish, who was to explain everything; and just by the door⁠—it is too bad!⁠—she simply ran away, and after waiting quite a time, I had to come in by myself.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” said Mr. Emerson.