Page:The Star in the Window.pdf/135

Rh isn't low company. You don't know—you don't understand." Her cheeks were scarlet.

"I should think you would blush," flung out Aunt Augusta. "And they call this a Christian organization in their catalog," she sneered.

"It has taught me more Christianity than I've known all my life," Reba defended.

"Humph!" sniffed Aunt Augusta. "The kind of Christianity that sanctions such bold and daring nakedness as I've just been witnessing isn't my kind, thank you. I never heard such unladylike sounds—such screams and unrefined laughter. Shop-girls I should call them—riff-raff! And you, brought up as you've been, mixing, as an equal, with low, vile company like that, bathing with them"

"It isn't vile," interrupted Reba.

"Young ladies," pursued Aunt Augusta, "or so-called, who use such words as—I don't like even repeating them—such words as, 'darn,' and—'damn'," she whispered. "I heard them!"

"Oh, that doesn't mean anything," Reba replied earnestly. "Not to them. No more than 'Mercy!' or "Gracious!' to you. Just a difference in spelling. That's all."

"You see, David, you see! You see what your child's come to! Taking the Lord's name in vain is just a matter of spelling to her!"

"I don't quite mean that," stumbled Reba, "but, somehow, down here, it's different. You don't feel so—so literal as you do in Ridgefield. What if those girls do work in shops for their living? They're just as good as I am, and so kind and friendly—and I'm