"Dear, dear—that's bad," said Mr. Bamsey, while his wife put further searching questions.
"Do you say your prayers, or do you not, if I may ask?"
"I say my prayers—yes."
She looked at him very suspiciously.
"We're bid to go," she said; "and you didn't ought to feel any doubt as to whether you're a Christian or not, did he, Ben?"
"Certainly he did not," answered her husband. Then he brightened and made a suggestion.
"You come along of us to-night. Won't hurt you, and you'll very like catch a grain that'll sprout. That's the beauty of church-going: 'tis like rough shooting—you never know what you're going to flush. And our parson's a man that abounds in plain truths. So like as not he'll get one home on you."
"Come, Mr. Maynard," said Dinah.
"Certainly I will if I may," he replied. "I've no feeling for, or against."
"If us can throw a light for your soul, you won't have come to tea in vain," suggested Mrs. Bamsey.