“Then be guided by Reason.” Miss Gentry stitched implacably. “If the Almighty meant prayer to be medicine, why did He create castor-oil?”
Bundock was dumbfounded.
“Or Epsom salts?” she added triumphantly.
“They’re for cattle which can’t pray,” he answered with an inspiration.
Miss Gentry’s needle stabbed the air. But she recovered herself. “Then why do you eat rhubarb pie?”
“Because it’s nice.” He grinned.
“But rhubarb’s a medicine!”
He countered cleverly. “We don’t mind taking medicine—so long as we’re well!” We! He was identifying himself with his despised Brethren: such is human nature under attack. But Miss Gentry was not at the end of her resources.
“Well, what do you do when you break your legs? Pray the bones straight?”
“But we don’t break our legs. I never heard of a Peculiar breaking his leg.”