There was a book beside Papa's plate, the book Aunt Lavvy had been reading. She had left it open on the drawing-room table when she went to church. She was late for supper and they sat there waiting for her. She came in, slowly as usual, and looking at the supper things as though they were not there. When she caught sight of the book something went up and flickered in her eyes—a sort of triumph.
You couldn't help thinking that she had left it lying about on purpose, so that Papa should see it.
He stood waiting till she had sat down. He handed the book to her. His eyes gleamed.
"When you come here," he said, "you will be good enough to leave James
Martineau behind you."
Mamma looked up, startled. "You don't mean to say you've brought that man's books into the house?"
"You can see for yourself, Caroline," said Aunt Lavvy.
"I don't want to see. No, Mary, it has nothing to do with you."
Mamma was smiling nervously. You would have supposed that she thought
James Martineau funny, but the least bit improper.
"But look, Mamma, it's his Endeavours After the Christian Life."
Her mother took up the book and put it down as if it had bitten her.