“Oh! if he’s that sort of a person it’s not to be wondered at,” observed Miss Dare, interrupting a very animated conversation with Frank, and bringing her aquiline features to bear upon the matter in hand. “It’s a mere case of wallowing in the mire after being washed, don’t you know.”
“Do you call carpentry a wallowing in the mire?” asked Louis with sudden gravity.
Miss Dare grew scarlet. “I beg your pardon, I’m sure,” she said; “I really had forgotten”—
“Had you? and why do you beg my pardon?” asked the boy, with some surprise; “but I always think of Him as a carpenter.”
“Him?”
“Jesus Christ,” said the boy, not without reverence.
There was a decided sensation around the table; for that sacred name is considered altogether malàpropos, and in wretched taste in good society. Then Alice said, “I don’t think Miss Dare intended any reflection upon the trade of a carpenter, Louis; that was only her witty manner of speaking. What she meant was that if he were brought up a carpenter there was less wonder in his taking to the trade now.”
“But it does give one a kind of shock,” quoth Pinkie with candor, “to hear our Lord spoken of as a carpenter. I wonder why?”
“So do I,” said her uncle. “It is very un-American.”
“He was a very good carpenter, I’m sure of that,” said Louis, the wistfulness growing deeper in his blue eyes.