Manchurian Books

"I am afraid," St. George said as they reached the stairs, "that you
have mistaken me, Mrs. Manners. I am not--"
"Pray, pray do not mention it," cried Mrs. Manners, shaking her
little lamp-shade of a hat at him, "we make every allowance, and I
am sure that none will be necessary."
"But I am with the _Evening Sentinel_," St. George persisted, "I am
afraid that--"
"As if one's profession made any difference!" cried Mrs. Manners
warmly. "No, indeed, I perfectly understand. We all understand," she
assured him, going over some papers in one hand and preparing to
mount the stairs. "Indeed, we appreciate it," she murmured, "do we
not, Miss Utter?"
The little brown nut seemed to crack in a capacious smile.
"Indeed, indeed!" she said fervently, accenting her emphasis by
briefly-closed eyes.
"Hymn books. Now, have we hymn books enough?" plaintively broke in
Mrs. Manners. "I declare, those new hymn books don't seem to have
the spirit of the old ones, no matter what _any one_ says," she
informed St.


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