Janet apparently saw that she had been rude, and said as sweetly as she might—“Ah! but you didn’t make that one, uncle. You got it out of a German book.”
“Make it!—Make a ghost story!” repeated Cornelius. “No; that I never did.”
“Such things are not to be trifled with, are they?” said Janet.
“I at least have no inclination to trifle with them.”
“But, really and truly, uncle,” persisted Janet, “you don’t believe in such things?”
“Why should I either believe or disbelieve in them? They are not essential to salvation, I presume.”
“You must do the one or the other, I suppose.”
“I beg your pardon. You suppose wrong. It would take twice the proof I have ever had to make me believe in them; and exactly your prejudice, and allow me to say ignorance, to make me disbelieve in them. Neither is within my reach. I postpone judgment. But you, young people, of course, are wiser, and know all about the question.”
“Oh, uncle! I’m so sorry!” said Kate. “I’m sure I did not mean to vex you.”
“Not at all, not at all, my dear.—It wasn’t you.”