"Yes, I do, and I'm in a position to know. You'd forgive them if you'd seen, as I did, how miserable and overwhelmed they were when Brother Paul—when—I'm not saying it's the highest kind of religion that they're so almighty afraid of losing your good opinion, but it—it gives you a hold, doesn't it?" And then, as the Superior said nothing, only kept intent eyes on the young face, the Boy wound up a little angrily: "Unless, of course, you're like Brother Paul, ready to throw away the power you've gained—"
"Paul serves a great and noble purpose—but—zese questions are—a—not in his province." Still he bored into the young face with those kind gimlets, his good little eyes, and—
"You are—one of us?" he asked, "of ze Church?"
"No, I—I'm afraid I'm not of any Church."
"Ah!"
"And I ought to take back 'afraid.' But I'm telling you the truth when I say there never were honester penitents than the Pymeuts. The whole Kachime's miserable. Even the girl, Ol' Chief's daughter she cried like anything when she thought Sister—"
"Winifred?"
"Sister Winifred would be disappointed in her."
"Ah, yes; Sister Winifred has zem—" he held out his hand, spread the fingers apart, and slowly, gently closed them. "Comme ça."
"But what's the good of it if Brother Paul—"