The moment the benediction was pronounced Floy left the church and walked rapidly away, turning the first corner she came to, nor paused nor slackened her pace till she reached Mrs. Sharp’s door.
“Had you a good sermon?” queried Hetty at the dinner-table.
“Yes,” Floy answered absently.
“It does not seem to have refreshed you much,” sneered Mr. Sharp, with a keen glance at the pale, sorrowful face whereon the traces of tears were very evident. “I would prescribe a nap instead, next Sunday.”
“Don’t tease her, Thorne,” said Mrs. Goodenough, “she’s been trying to do her duty like a Christian. What is it Shakespeare says?”
“Madam, let me counsel you to purchase a copy of the works of that immortal bard, and study it for your own edification, for ours, and for that of the world at large,” he returned loftily and with a contemptuous wave of the hand, as he passed his cup to be refilled.
Hetty flushed indignantly.
“It might be for your edification, no doubt,” she retorted; “this passage for one—‘Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works.’”
“Hush, hush, child! that’s too strong,” said her mother, taking the cup. “But unasked advice isn’t apt to be welcome, Thorne; what is it Shakespeare says?” and the tea-pot she had just lifted was set down again while she seemed lost in contemplation. “Ah! I have it: