“Oh, of course. I should not have noticed it during the prayers,” said Mrs Berens, who was strung up now.
“That means that the prayers are better worth listening to than my sermons?” said Salis quickly.
“I did not say so,” retorted Mrs Berens, who momentarily grew more dignified and distant of manner, while Mary looked from one to the other, surprised into enjoyment of the novel scene.
“Ah, well, never mind,” said Salis half-bitterly. “Never mind the sermon, Mrs Berens.”
“Is not that rather bad advice for one’s pastor to give to a member of his flock, Mr Salis?”
“I’m afraid it is,” said Salis, laughing. “I am beaten. Now it’s my turn, madam,” he added to himself. “What do you think of that, Mrs Berens?” and he held out and displayed the surplice, as a modiste would a dress.
“It looks very white, Mr Salis,” said the lady, fanning herself with a highly-scented handkerchief.
“Are you a judge of the quality of linen, Mrs Berens?”
“Well, not a judge; but I think I can tell that this is very fine.”
“Exactly,” said Salis; “very fine, ma’am. Do you know what this is?”