"You don't say so! But what was that round thing he lifted out of the cup?"
"That? Why, Phœmie, that was the Host!"
"There was a host of people on the floor, of course; but I mean the little thing he held up between his thumb and finger?"
"That?" says Cousin E. E., a-lifting up both hands, as if I'd done something dreadful. "That is the holy wafer."
"The what, Cousin E. E.?"
"The body of our Saviour."
"Oh, cousin, how can you?" says I, a-feeling myself grow cold all over.
"It is so, Phœmie. As yet you may not understand the mystery, but in time you will see it."
I couldn't answer her, she was in such solemn earnest; but then and there I made up my mind that we should have to talk over that matter in earnest before long, for I felt the Pilgrim blood riling up in my bosom.
"Do Episcopalians believe that?" says I.