religion," suggested Chester. "A lot of
outward show, but within, dark and dead."

Uncle Gilbert, though living in Ireland, was not a Catholic, so he took
no offense at this remark.

Then while they were "doing" churches, they visited that of St. Sulpice,
a very large edifice, in the floor of which is a brass line which marks
the Meridian of Paris. At the left of the entrance sits St. Peter in
life-sized bronze, in possession of the Keys. The naked big toe of this
figure is easily reached by the worshipers.

"I have heard of people kissing images of the Saints," said Chester,
"but I have never seen anything of the kind. Let us rest here a while,
to see if anything happens."

Lucy was glad of the suggestion as she was more tired than she wished to
acknowledge. The big church was cool and quiet. Worshipers singly and in
twos were coming and going. Presently, a woman, and presumably her
daughter, came in, and as they passed St. Peter they leaned forward and
kissed the shining, metal toe. They passed on to a confessional where
the priest could be seen and faintly heard behind the latticed window.

All this was exceedingly interesting to the young people. The two
brothers were absorbed more in the building itself than what was going
on within; even to what their two young people were doing. Chester,
surely was prompted by a spirit of sacriledge when he took from an inner
pocket a picture post-card he had bought in Ireland.

"The kissing of the toe reminded me of it," said he, as he handed the
card to Lucy, who looked at the picture of an Irishman in the act of
kissing his sweetheart, Blarney Castle being shown in the distance.
Underneath was the following:

"With quare sinsashuns and palpitashuns,
A kiss I'll venture here, Mavrone;
'Tis swater Blarney, good Father Mahoney,
Kissin' the girls than that dirty stone."

Lucy's father tapped her on the shoulder. "You're in a church. Behave
yourself," he said. "Come, let's be going."

CHAPTER XII.

It was evident that, notwithstanding the good intentions which all
persons concerned had of not overreaching in the sight-seeing business,
Lucy, at least, was feeling its effects. That she would have to remain
quiet for some days was the verdict of the physician which her father
called. There was no immediate danger, said he to Chester, but the heart
action was feeble. A week of absolute rest would remedy that.

Chester was packed off to Switzer