“‘Diligent in business.’  There is another verse for you, my heathen,” Marion said, with a merry glance toward Eurie.  “When you get home and get the dust of years swept off from your Bible, you take a look at it, and see if I have not quoted correctly.  And a good, sensible verse it is.  I have found it the only way in which to keep my head above water.  Ruthie, the trouble is not with me, it lies with those selfish and obstinate newspaper men.  If they would have the sense to let their papers wait over another day I could go to the lecture this morning.  As it is, I am a victim to their indifference.  If I miss a blessing the sin will be at their door, not mine.”

Eurie opened her heavy eyes and looked at Flossy.

“Come,” she said, “don’t stand there mopping me in vinegar any longer.  Are you ready?  I am really disappointed.  I’ve always wanted to hear that man.  I want to tell Nel about him.”

Flossy washed her hands, shook back the yellow curls with an indifferent and preoccupied air, and went to the door to wait for Ruth.  She had taken no part in the war of words that had been passing between Marion and Eurie, but she had heard.  And like almost everything else that she heard during these days, it had awakened a new thought and desire.  Flossy was growing amazed at herself.  It seemed to her that she must have spent her seventeen years of life taking long naps, and this Chautauqua was a stiff breeze from the ocean that was going to shake her awake.  The special thought that had dashed itself at her this morning was that she, too, had no Bible.  Not that she did not own one, elegantly done in velvet and clasped in gold, so effectually clasped that it had been sealed to her all her life.  She positively had no recollection of having ever sat down deliberately to read the Bible.  She had “looked over” occasionally in school, but even this service of her eyes had been fitful and indifferent; and as for her head paying any sort of attention to the reading, it might as well have been done in Greek instead of French, which language she but dimly comprehended even when she tried.  But now she ought to have a Bible.  She ought not to wait for that velvet covered one.  A whole week in which to find what some of her orders were, and no way in which to find them.  Of course she could buy one, but how queer it would seem to be going to the museum to make a purchase of a Bible!  “They will wonder why I did not bring my own,” she murmured, with that life-long deference that she had educated herself to pay to the “they” who composed her world.  And in another instance the new-born feeling of respect and independence asserted itself.  “I can’t help that,” she said, positively, shaking her curls with a determined air; “and it really makes no difference what anybody thinks.  Of course I must have a Bible, and I only wish I had it for this morning, I shall certainly get one the first opportunity.”  Then she turned and said “good-morning” to the pretty little lady who occupied the tent next door, and between whom and herself a pleasant acquaintance was springing up.