"And from men, who have still less to spare. But that's his way. Have you met Lord Esbrook? Such a funny walk as he has. Dot and carry one--wooden leg, you know; dot and carry one--just like this only much worse;" and Leah limped the length of the room, mimicking an extraordinary gait so cleverly that Lionel laughed openly.
"Though you shouldn't mock at people's infirmities," he coughed.
"Why not? Esbrook's a holy show, and with the spite of the cripple, he spares no one's feelings. He's the cracked black pot snarling at the kettles he can never hope to be, with his dot and carry one, dot and carry one;" and back she came swinging and grunting with provoking cleverness.
In her gyrations--it seemed from her imitations that Lord Esbrook gyrated--she overturned the table upon which rested the covered book. Leah pounced to pick up the volume, as did Kaimes, out of courtesy. When he had set the table on its legs he could scarcely refrain from glancing casually at the book. It's exterior was familiar.
"The Bible!" exclaimed an amazed man.
Leah flung herself into the chair, laughing noisily. "Oh, what a face!" she mocked, pointing a jeering finger. "Look at yourself, do."
"Were--you--reading the Bible?" asked the vicar, too astonished to note the poor attempt she made to force humour.
"Why not?" said she, defiantly, but with flushes and quick breaths.
"You only mock."
"The opportunity is so alluring," was her reply. "There's such an awful lot of rot in that history of the Jews. And hundreds of impossibilities. Here!" She seized the Bible and rapidly swept the pages. "What was I reading when you entered?" The thin leaves flew and flickered beneath her fingers. "Oh yes! Something quite too absurd in Matthew."