"No, but an altary," persisted Abby. "The Tyrrells have an altary in their house, and I wish we could have one too. Why, you must know what it is, mother,—just a little room fitted up like a chapel; and the family say their prayers there night and morning, and at other times if they wish."
"Oh, an oratory!" observed Mrs. Clayton, trying to repress a smile.
"Perhaps that is the name," admitted Abby, a trifle disconcerted.
"Anyhow, can't we have one?"
"Well—yes," said her mother, after a few moments' reflection. "The small room next to the parlor might be arranged for that purpose."
"That would make a beautiful al—chapel!" exclaimed Abby. She did not venture to attempt the long word again.
"I think I could get enough out of the carpet that was formerly on the parlor to cover the floor," mused Mrs. Clayton aloud. "The square table, draped with muslin and lace, would make a pretty altar. Then, with the pictures of the Sacred Heart and the Bouguereau Madonna to hang on the walls, and my prie-dieu—yes, Abby, I think we can manage it."
"Oh, how splendid!" cried the little girl. "When shall we begin to get it ready?"
"Perhaps to-morrow," answered her mother; "but I can not promise to have the preparations completed at once. It will take some time to plan the carpet and have it put down."
Abby was not only satisfied, but delighted. She told Larry the minute he came into the house. He had been over to the pond with his boat again.
"That will be grand!" said he. "When you get everything fixed, I'll bring you the little vase I got for Christmas, and my prayer-book, and—oh, yes, my rosary, to put on the altar. And, then," he went on, quite seriously, "there's my catechism, and the little chalk angel, and—"