“Yes—perfect.”
“Perfect, eh? Well, certainly you ought to know. It was even better than your own, eh?”
“As to that, I—I believe I cannot say,” said she, and was going on, but stopped. Then she added, almost as if she were saying it to herself, “Still, it was an improvement on yours!”
I knew there was a chuckle back of her eyes, for all their innocence. Everybody shouted. Brother Seguin was nettled, and asked brusquely:
“Do you believe in God?”
Joan answered with an irritating nonchalance:
“Oh, well, yes—better than you, it is likely.”
Brother Seguin lost his patience, and heaped sarcasm after sarcasm upon her, and finally burst out in angry earnest, exclaiming:
“Very well, I can tell you this, you whose belief in God is so great: God has not willed that any shall believe in you without a sign. Where is your sign?—show it!”
This roused Joan, and she was on her feet in a moment, and flung out her retort with spirit: