“Better go and ask the bishop,” said Tessie, laughing. “But then there are two bishops, and which is the right? Don’t be a goose, Fred.”
“I am quite serious, I assure you, for the moment,” added she. “And indeed, it is a thing to be quite serious about.”
“If we had gone to the convent, as Mr St. Cyr and Madame Ascot wished, instead of to Mrs Glencairn’s, we should have known all about it. But then it is quite right that we should be of the same religion as papa. Still I think he did not care himself, only he wished to vex Mr St. Cyr.”
Frederica said nothing for a minute, and her sister added—
“We ought to learn about it in church: that is what we go to church for, I suppose.”
“Yes, and I like to go very well, but I get very sleepy during the sermon, especially when we go with Miss Robina. I try to listen sometimes; but of course all that is meant for grown-up people, and I don’t understand it.”
“Were you not just telling Mr St. Cyr that you are grown up? But I think you are very stupid to bother about it. If people say their prayers and are nice and obliging, and all that, I think that is quite enough. I am sure mama is good, and so is Selina, and what is the use talking so much about religion, as though that would make any difference?”
“Yes, mama is good, and Selina, but I am not, at least very often I am not. And there must be some way of finding out what is wrong and what is right.”
“Of course there is—your own conscience,” said Tessie, triumphantly. “Hasn’t Mrs Glencairn often told you?”
Frederica shook her head.