For only think of what mamma said, and she must have told papa what she thought. Such dreadful ideas.
“You are becoming too fond of going to church, Laura,” she said with a meaning look. “I’m afraid we did wrong in letting you go to the sisters.”
“Absurd, mamma!” I cried. “No one can be too religious.”
“Oh, yes, my dear, they can,” said mamma, “when they begin to worship idols.”
“What do you mean, mamma?” I cried, blushing, for there was a curious meaning in her tone.
“Never mind, my dear,” she said, tightening her lips. “Your papa quite agreed with me that you wanted a change.”
“But I don’t, mamma,” I pleaded.
“Oh yes you do, my dear,” she continued, “you are getting wasted and wan, and too fond of morning services. What do you think papa said?”
“I don’t know, mamma.”
“He said, ‘That would cure it.’”