hrough,
and almost before the last sentence had been read, Alan's wrath
exploded.

"It's all very fine for her to laugh like that at Joan and Mary and
Nancy," he said, coloring hotly. "But they were absolutely right, and
Mrs. Ross--I mean Aunt Maud----"

"I was afraid you were going to disown the relationship," Michael
laughed.

"Aunt Maud is absolutely wrong. Why, my uncle would have been furious.
Even if _she_ became a Catholic she had no business to take Kenneth with
her. The more I think of it--you know, it really is a bit thick."

"Why do you object?" Michael asked curiously. "I never knew you thought
about religion at all, except so far as occasionally to escort your
mother politely to Matins, and that was after all to oblige her more
than God. Besides, you're reading Greats, and I always thought that the
Greats people in their fourth year abstained from anything like a
definite opinion for fear of losing their First."

"I may not have a definite opinion about Christianity," said Alan. "But
Catholicism is ridiculous, anyway--it doesn't suit English people."

"There you're treading on the heels of the School of Modern History
which you affect to despise. You really don't know, if I may say so,
what could or could not suit the English people unless you know what
has or has not suited them."

"Why don't you become a Catholic yourself," challenged Alan, "if you're
so keen on them?"

"For a logician," said Michael, "your conclusion is bad, being entirely
unrelated to any of our premises. Secondly, were I inclined to label
myself as anything, I should be disposed to label myself as a Catholic
already."

"Oh, I know that affectation!" scoffed Alan.

"Well, the net result of our commentary is that you, like everybody
else, object to Mrs. Ross changing her opinions, because you don't like
it. Her position is negligible, the springs of action being religious.
Now if my mother went over to Rome I should be rather bucked on her
account."

"My dear chap, if you don't mind my saying so," suggested Alan as
apologetically as his outraged conventionality would allow, "your mother
has always been rather given to--er--all sorts of new cults, and it
wouldn't be so--er--noticeable in her case. But supposing Stella----"

Michael looked at him sharply.

"Supposing Stella did?" he asked.

"Oh, of course she's artistic and she's traveled and--oh, well, I don't
know--Stella's different."

At any rate, thought Michael,