“Don’t think I could tell you if I tried. He put some oil on me, and some spittle,—and water, of course,—and said ever so many prayers.”
“What did he say in his prayers?”
“Eh, how can I tell you? They were all in Latin.”
“The Lord does not speak French or English, then?” demanded Countess satirically.
“Well!” said David, scratching his head, “when you put it that way—”
“I don’t see what other way to put it. But I thought they baptised with water?”
“Oh, yes, the real baptism is with water.”
“Then what is the good of the unreal baptism, with oil and other rubbish?”
“I cry you mercy, but you must needs ask the priest. I’m only an ignorant man.”
“Dost thou think he knows?”