“I am a Christian!” she retorted.

“Then,” the Young Doctor was still laughing, “then you must never, never tell untruths.  You are blushing!”

The Superintendent interrupted.  It had been her role, lately, to interrupt quarrels between the two who sat on either side of her table.

“Don’t tease, Billy Blanchard!” she said, sternly.  “If Rose-Marie went anywhere this afternoon, she certainly had a right to.  And she also has a right to blush.  I’m glad, in these sophisticated days, to see a girl who can blush!”

The Young Doctor was leaning back in his chair, surveying the pair of them with unconcealed amusement.

“How you women do stick together!” he said.  “Talk about men being clannish!  I believe,” he chuckled, “from the way Miss Thompson is blushing, that she’s got a very best beau!  I believe that she was out with him, this afternoon!”

Rose-Marie, who had always been taught that deceit is wicked, felt a sudden, unexplainable urge to be wicked!  She told herself that she hated Dr. Blanchard—­she told herself that he was the most unsympathetic of men!  His eyes, fixed mirthfully upon her, brought words—­that she scarcely meant to say—­to her lips.

“Well,” she answered slowly and distinctly, “what if I was?”

There was silence for a moment.  And then—­with something of an effort—­the Superintendent spoke.

“I told you,” she said, “not to bother Rose-Marie, Doctor.  If Rose-Marie was out with a young man I’m sure that she had every right to be.  Rose-Marie”—­was it possible that her eyes were fixed a shade inquiringly upon the blushing girl—­“would have nothing to do with any one who had not been approved by her aunts.  And she realizes that she is, in a way, under my care—­that I am more or less responsible for her safety and welfare.  Rose-Marie is trustworthy, absolutely trustworthy.  And she is old enough to take care of herself.  You must not bother her, Billy Blanchard!”

It was a long speech for the Superintendent, and it was a kindly one.  It was also a speech to invite confidences.  But—­strangely enough—­Rose-Marie could not help feeling that there was a question half concealed in the kindliness of it.  She could not help feeling that the Superintendent was just a trifle worried over the prospect of an unknown young man.

It was her time, then, to admit that there was nobody, really—­that she had gone out on an adventure by herself, that there had been no “beau.”  But the consciousness of the Young Doctor’s eyes, fixed upon her face, prohibited all speech.  She could not tell him about the Volskys—­neither could she admit that no young man was interested in her.  Every girl wants to seem popular in the eyes of some member of the opposite sex—­even though that member may be an unpleasant person—­whom she dislikes.  And so, with a feeling of utter meanness in her soul—­with a real weight of deceit upon her heart—­she smiled into the Superintendent’s anxious face.