"And why, in the name of all that's good, cannot you stop and say your prayers at home?" asked the doctor.
"Because I don't choose it, doctor. I like to go to church."
"Ah! a good many people think there is something mysterious in the air of a church," said Mr. Lindsay. "However take your own course; there is something truly pious in a bad cold caught in a damp pew—it sends people now and then to Heaven before their time, I grant you."
"Ah, doctor, if people did not know you, they would not think you so good as you are. Now mind what you are about to mamma."
Mrs. Fitzpatrick was now quite composed, even cheerful. She shook hands with Mr. Lindsay; "begged him to take some luncheon at their early dinner," and summoned Mr. Haveloc from the garden.
"Aveline is your charge you know," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, "I do not even venture to carve for her."
"What shall it be, Miss Fitzpatrick?" said Mr. Haveloc, drawing his chair to the table.
"Sweetbread, I think," said Aveline, looking round, "and mushrooms." "No mushrooms;" said Mr. Lindsay.
"I will!" said Aveline.
Mr. Haveloc put them on her plate.