"Good Lord! miss, you ain't like 'er."
"Well, let's change the subject," said Sallie smiling, "or I shan't be able to eat for a week."
"But it didn't really spoil 'er supper, miss," said Bindle earnestly. "She finished the salmon."
For some time we continued to smoke in silence.
"Funny thing, religion," remarked Bindle at last, a propos of nothing; "it seems to get different people different ways. Now 'Earty and Mrs. B., they seem to think Gawd is near 'em in that smelly little chapel o' theirs; as for me this is what makes me think o' Gawd." And Bindle waved the hand holding his cigar to embrace everything about us.
"But why," enquired Windover wickedly, "should a cigar make you feel nearer to God?"
Bindle turned to Windover and looked him straight in the eyes.
"I wasn't jokin', sir," he said simply.
"I beg your pardon, J.B.," and there was a something in Windover's tone which showed that he regarded the reproof as merited.
"If I was startin' a religion," continued Bindle, "I'd 'ave people go out in the country, an' kneel down in a field, an' look up at the sky when the sun was shinin'. They'd get a better idea o' Gawd than wot 'Earty and Mrs. B.'s got."