“Now, was he very wicked for it, Anne?”

“N—­no, if dancing be not wrong.”

“But why should it?”

“All the bad people danced in the Bible.”

“Miriam—­King David, eh?”

“That was part of their religious service.”

“The welcome to the prodigal son?” further suggested Julius.  “Does not this prove that the exercise is not sinful in itself?”

“But you would not do it again?” repeated Anne.

“I certainly should not make a practice of it, nor go to balls any more than I would be a sportsman or a cricketer, because I am bound to apply my whole self to the more direct service; but this does not show that there is evil necessarily connected with these amusements, or that they may not safely be enjoyed by those who have time, and who need an outlet for their spirits, or by those who wish to guard these pleasures by presiding over them.”

“Don’t persuade me!” exclaimed Anne.  “I gave my word to Mr. Pilgrim that nothing should induce me to dance or play at cards.”

“Mr. Pilgrim had no right—­” began Rosamond; but Julius hushed her, saying, “No one wishes to persuade you, Anne.  Your retirement during Miles’s absence is very suitable and becoming.”

“Till we live in the Bush, out of the way of it all,” said Anne.

“I wish you could have seen one of our real old Christmas parties; but those can never be again, without mother herself or Mrs. Douglas.”

“Do tell me about those Douglases,” said Rosamond.  “Cecil hinted at some romance, but seemed to think you had suppressed the connection because he was an attorney.”

“Not exactly,” said Julius, smiling; “but it is a sad story, though we have no doubt he bore the guilt of others.”

“Something about two thousand pounds!”

“Yes.  It was the year that my mother and Raymond were abroad.  She had been buying some property near, and sent home an order from Vevay.  It did not come, and was inquired for; but as it was an order, not a draft, it was not stopped at the bank; and in about a fortnight more it was presented by a stranger, and paid without hesitation, as it was endorsed “Proudfoot and Moy.”  Old Proudfoot was away at Harrogate, and came home to investigate; young Proudfoot denied all knowledge of it, and so did his brother-in-law Moy; but Raymond, working at the other end, found that the waiter at the hotel at Vevay had forgotten to post the letter for more than a week, and it was traced through the post to Wil’sbro’, where the postman remembered delivering a foreign-looking letter to Archie Douglas at the door of the office.  It came alone by the afternoon post.  His account was this:  They were all taking it rather easy in old Proudfoot’s absence; and when a sudden summons came to take the old farmer’s instructions for his will, Archie, as the junior, was told off to do it.  He left George Proudfoot and Moy in a private room at the