“What! both of them?” thought Hugh. “Good heavens!” But he said:
“Well, but you know, Mrs. Appleditch, the Apostles themselves wore beards.”
“Yes, when they were Jews. But who would have believed them if they had preached the gospel like old clothesmen? No, no, Mr. Sutherland, I see through all that. My own uncle was a preacher of the word.—As soon as the Apostles became Christians, they shaved. It was the sign of Christianity. The Apostle Paul himself says that cleanliness is next to godliness.”
Hugh restrained his laughter, and shifted his ground.
“But there is nothing dirty about them,” he said.
“Not dirty? Now really, Mr. Sutherland, you provoke me. Nothing dirty in long hair all round your mouth, and going into it every spoonful you take?”
“But it can be kept properly trimmed, you know.”
“But who’s to trust you to do that? No, no, Mr. Sutherland; you must not make a guy of yourself.”
Hugh laughed, and said nothing. Of course his beard would go on growing, for he could not help it.
So did Mrs. Appleditch’s wrath.