“Do you think Mr Wesley was wrong?” I said. “‘The common people heard Him gladly.’ And I suppose you would not say that our Lord was not a gentleman.”
“Dear Miss Courtenay, forgive me, but what very odd things you say! And—excuse me—don’t you know it is not thought at all good taste to quote the Bible in polite society?”
“Is the Bible worse off for that?” said I. “Or is it the polite society? The best society, I suppose, ought to be in Heaven: and I fancy they do not shut out the Bible there. What think you?”
“Are you very innocent?” she answered, laughing; “or are you only making believe? You must know, surely, that religion is not talked about except from the pulpit, and on Sundays.”
“But can we all be sure of dying on a Sunday?” I answered. “We shall want religion then, shall we not?”
“Hush! we don’t talk of dying either—it is too shocking!”
“But don’t we do it sometimes?” I said.
Miss Newton looked as if she did not know whether to laugh or be angry—certainly very much disturbed.
“Let us talk of something more agreeable, I beg,” said she. “See, Miss Bracewell is going to sing.”
“Oh, she will sing nothing worth listening to,” said I.