“Are you sure, mamma,” commented Kate, “that he wasn’t talking merely to hear himself talk?”
“I like the looks of that Reuben Tracy,” interposed Ethel. “He always suggests the idea that he is the kind of man you could tie something to, and come back hours afterward and find it all there just as you had left it.”
The girl broke into an amused laugh at the appearance of this metaphor, when she had finished it, and the others joined in her gayety. Under the influence of this much-needed enlivenment, Miss Tabitha took another piece of turkey and drank some of her wine and water. They began talking about Tracy.
“It will be a good thing for Horace Boyce,” said Miss Tabitha. “He couldn’t have a steadier or better partner for business. They tell me that Tracy handles more work, as it is, than any other two lawyers in town. He’s a very good-hearted man too, and charitable, as everybody will admit who knows him. What a pity it is that he doesn’t take an interest in church affairs, and rent a pew, and set an example to young men in that way.”
“On the contrary, I sometimes think, Tabitha,” said Miss Kate, idly crumbling the bread on the cloth before her, “that it is worth while to have an occasional good man or woman altogether outside the Church. They prevent those on the inside from getting too conceited about their own virtues. There would be no living with the parsons and the deacons and the rest if you couldn’t say to them now and then: ‘See, you haven’t a monopoly of goodness. Here are people just as honest and generous and straightforward as you are yourselves, who get along without any altar or ark whatever.’”
Mrs. Minster looked at her daughter with an almost imperceptible lifting of the brows. Her comment had both apology and mild reproof in it:
“To hear Kate talk, one would think she was a perfect atheist. She is always defending infidels and such people. I am sure I can’t imagine where she takes it from.”
“Why, mamma!” protested the girl, “who has said anything about infidels? We have no earthly right to brand people with that word, simply because we don’t see them going to church as we do. We none of us know this Mr. Tracy to even bow to him—at least I don’t—and we know no more about his religious opinions than we do about—what shall I say?—about the man in the moon. But I have heard others speak of him frequently, and always with respect. I wasn’t defending him. Why should I? I merely said it was worth while to keep in mind that men could be good without renting a pew in church.”
“I don’t like to hear you speak against religion, that is all,” replied the mother, placidly. “It isn’t—ladylike.”
“And if you come to inquire,” interposed Miss Tabitha, speaking with great gentleness, as of one amiably admonishing impetuous and ill-informed youth, “you will generally find that there is something not quite as it should be about these people who are so sure that they need no help to be good. Only last evening Sarah Cheeseborough told me something about your Mr. Tracy—”