Lunch was announced and they went out and were joined by Virginia’s grandmother, Madam Page, a handsome, stately woman of sixty-five, and Virginia’s brother Rollin, a young man who spent most of his time at one of the clubs and had no ambition for anything but a growing admiration for Rachel Winslow, and whenever she dined or lunched at the Page’s, if he knew of it he always planned to be at home.

These three made up the Page family.  Virginia’s father had been a banker and grain speculator.  Her mother had died ten years before, her father within the past year.  The grandmother, a Southern woman in birth and training, had all the traditions and feelings that accompany the possession of wealth and social standing that have never been disturbed.  She was a shrewd, careful business woman of more than average ability.  The family property and wealth were invested, in large measure, under her personal care.  Virginia’s portion was, without any restriction, her own.  She had been trained by her father to understand the ways of the business world, and even the grandmother had been compelled to acknowledge the girl’s capacity for taking care of her own money.

Perhaps two persons could not be found anywhere less capable of understanding a girl like Virginia than Madam Page and Rollin.  Rachel, who had known the family since she was a girl playmate of Virginia’s, could not help thinking of what confronted Virginia in her own home when she once decided on the course which she honestly believed Jesus would take.  Today at lunch, as she recalled Virginia’s outbreak in the front room, she tried to picture the scene that would at some time occur between Madam Page and her granddaughter.

“I understand that you are going on the stage, Miss Winslow.  We shall all be delighted, I’m sure,” said Rollin during the conversation, which had not been very animated.

Rachel colored and felt annoyed.  “Who told you?” she asked, while Virginia, who had been very silent and reserved, suddenly roused herself and appeared ready to join in the talk.

“Oh! we hear a thing or two on the street.  Besides, every one saw Crandall the manager at church two weeks ago.  He doesn’t go to church to hear the preaching.  In fact, I know other people who don’t either, not when there’s something better to hear.”

Rachel did not color this time, but she answered quietly, “You’re mistaken.  I’m not going on the stage.”

“It’s a great pity.  You’d make a hit.  Everybody is talking about your singing.”

This time Rachel flushed with genuine anger.  Before she could say anything, Virginia broke in:  “Whom do you mean by ‘everybody?’”

“Whom?  I mean all the people who hear Miss Winslow on Sundays.  What other time do they hear her?  It’s a great pity, I say, that the general public outside of Raymond cannot hear her voice.”

“Let us talk about something else,” said Rachel a little sharply.  Madam Page glanced at her and spoke with a gentle courtesy.