by his earnest defence of them, and ever
since he is a perfect enthusiast; wouldn't stay from Mass if the house
was on fire, and if you would believe it, is actually insisting that the
children shall go with him whenever they don't go with me; next thing
will be to take them with him anyhow, and the idea of having Johnny and
Flora brought up to believe that it is a mortal sin to be absent from
Mass, even when the day is scalding hot, or piping cold! That is
downright tyranny. I would never endure it! It is well I was never
brought up a Catholic; they'd find a rebel in me, sure. All the priests,
and Bishops, and the Pope, and a hundred like him, couldn't oblige me to
go to church, if I was not a mind. And Althea, only think of it, your
uncle, good as he is, every month now goes on his knees to Father Duffy
and confesses his sins! That is too much. Your uncle, Althea, if I do
say it, who am his wife, is the best man in the world--the very best,
and the idea! Why, I believe it is the other way, and this priest, Mr.
Duffy, had better go on _his_ knees to my husband--he would have more to
say, I'll wager. John Temple is sensible upon everything else, but upon
the matter of his religion he has become childish and absurd. I believe
he would give me up and the children too, dearly as he loves them,
rather than his religion. There he is at last," she exclaimed eagerly,
as the hall door opened below, and a man's foot was heard ascending the
stairs.
"O John! I am so glad you have come. You have almost been the death of
me though, you naughty man."
"How so, Juliet?"
"Why, did you not tell me when I objected to going to St. Mark's that if
I did not go and take the children you should take them with you?"
"I did."
"Well, of course, rather than to have them go to that Irish Church, I
made a martyr of myself and went with them to St. Mark's, but it is for
the last time this summer, I can promise you. Why, I have almost died
with the heat."
"It is a very warm day, unusually warm for the season," was the only
response.
"And is that _all_, John, that you have to say? You are _not_ going to
take the children hereafter to church with you, when it is impossible
for me to go with them to St. Mark's?"
"That is what I told you, Juliet. I have thoroughly made up my mind,
and--"
"O, don't tell me you have made up your mind," cried the lady
hysterically, who knew from a twelve years' experience that John
Temple's made-up min
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