‘All about—why, loving one’s neighbour—and the Good Samaritan, and so on. I never saw any one do it, you know, but it was comfortable like to read about it; and when I watched to your mother and all of you, I saw how it was about one’s neighbour; and then, what with that and Mr. Cope’s teaching, I got to feel how it was—about God!’ and Paul’s face looked very grave and peaceful.
‘Well,’ said Alfred, ‘I don’t know as I ever cared about it much—not since I was a little boy. It was the fun last Christmas.’
And Paul looking curious, Alfred told all about the going out for holly, and the dining at the Grange, and the snap-dragon over the pudding, till he grew so eager and animated that he lost breath, and his painful cough came on, so that he could just whisper, ‘What did you do?’
‘Oh! I don’t know. We had prayers, and there was roast beef for dinner, but they gave it to me where it was raw, and I couldn’t eat it. Those that had friends went out; but ‘twasn’t much unlike other days.’
‘Poor Paul!’ sighed Alfred.
‘It won’t be like that again, though,’ said Paul, ‘even if I was in a Union. I know—what I know now.’
‘And, Paul,’ said Alfred, after a pause, ‘there’s one thing I should like if I was you. You know our Blessed Saviour had no house over Him, but was left out of the inn, and nobody cared for Him.’
Paul did not make any answer; and Alfred blushed all over.
Presently Alfred said, ‘Harold will run in soon. I say, Paul, would you mind reading me what they will say after the Holy Sacrament—what the Angels sang is the beginning.’
Paul found it, and felt as if he must stand to read such praise.