"Yes, I mean all that," says she; "but the church, as a church, is but little understood among you."
"Well, as you came from the same place, you ought to know," says I, rebuking her city airs in my most austere manner.
"Well, yes," says she; "but one doesn't hear much of the true church so far in the mountains. Even you seemed puzzled by a good many things this morning."
"Well, yes," says I—"the four-cornered cocked hat, for instance."
"The four-cornered cocked hat!" says she, stopping short on the sidewalk. "What do you mean? That was the barette."
"Oh," says I, "that is what they call it! Well, then, the four-cornered cocked barette—what does the minister wear that for? It isn't generally considered good manners for men to wear hats in meeting."
"Oh, there is a clerical reason I can't quite explain, but it is a part of the ceremony."
"Just so," says I—"and the night-gown."
"Surplice, you mean," says E. E.; "oh, that is worn everywhere, in High and Low Church alike."
"Well," says I, "there may be a reason for such things, but a respectable black coat is what I've been used to."