Lalage, Hilda, and I went for a drive in one of the attractive carriages which ply for hire in the Lisbon streets. We drove up one side of the Avenida de Liberdade and down the other. I did the duty of a good cicerone by pointing out the fountains, trees and other objects of interest which Lalage and Hilda were sure to see for themselves. When we had exhausted the Avenida I suggested going on to Belem. Lalage did not seem pleased. She said that driving was not her idea of pleasure. She wanted something more active and exciting. I agreed.
“We’ll go in a tram,” I said.
“Where to?”
“Belem.”
“Belem’s a church, isn’t it, Hilda?”
Hilda and I both admitted that it was.
“Then we can’t go there,” said Lalage decidedly.
“Why not?” I ventured to ask.
“You said yourself that it wouldn’t be decent.”
“Oh!” I said, “you’re thinking of those poor bishops; but you haven’t done anything to the Portuguese patriarch yet. Besides, only half of Belem is a church. The other half is a school, quite secular.”