That evening Minister Graves came blustering in after his family were seated at the table. What was this ridiculous thing that he had heard? His home disgraced, his position ruined, his children ostracized. He glanced at Teola and Frederick. His wife, fastening Babe's napkin under the child's chin, remonstrated.
"Why, father, what's the trouble?"
"I was making a clerical call on Mrs. Robman to-day," fumed the Dominie, "and that girl of hers, and a saucy one she is, too, burst into the room, and, mother, what tale do you think she told--before us?"
Frederick glanced at his sister, but Teola's eyes were upon her empty plate. Mrs. Graves shook her head.
"That that Skinner girl came here last night and in all her rags and filth drank coffee from our daughter's cup! Madame, did you ever imagine that such a disgrace could fall upon you?"
Mrs. Graves looked helplessly from her husband's distorted face to her son and daughter.
"She came into your home," went on the minister, "and was asked to take refreshments from your cups. Mrs. Robman said that she disliked to think that such degraded guests were allowed in your home.... Do you understand what that means, Mrs. Graves?"
"Let Frederick explain, father," pleaded the trembling wife; "he was going to speak and you stopped him. What and how did it happen?"
"The girl came to the Rectory to ask prayers for her father," said Frederick, an expression darkening his eyes which his mother dreaded.
"Prayers ... prayers!" roared the minister, "Prayers for a squatter and a murderer!... And drinking coffee from your cups. Such a disgrace can never be lifted from this house."
"What hurt did she do?" irreverently asked Babe. Frederick was thankful for the child's frank question.
"Hurt? Harm, you mean. If she should just hurt a person that could be mended. Harm was what she did!"
"What harm?" persisted Babe.
"Madam, you see your children are all growing up like heathens. There arn't any of the parents whose sons and daughters were here last night, who won't think a long time before they allow them to come again. You understand, don't you, that that squatter covered with germs of all kinds drank from your daughter's cup."
Mrs. Graves started preceptibly. She was noted for a fear of germs.
"Teola, your mouth must be scoured with peroxide ... Oh, if some one would only tell me how it all happened!"
Frederick rose from his chair and impulsively laid his hand on his mother's shoulder. To Teola he looked so tall and strong, so capable of explaining, that she rose, too.