"I don't like him," said Gwendolen. "He always spoils those pictures of the Holy Family, he and his beard; he is like Abraham."
"He spoils! That is not so; he is no doubt much, much older than the Blessed Virgin, but that was necessary, and he is un peu homme du monde—to protect the Lady Mother and Child. I pray to St. Joseph, because the good God, who was the Blessed Child, was always so gentle, so obedient, so tender. He will still listen to his kind protector, St. Joseph."
"Oh, Louise, you are funny," said Gwendolen, laughing.
"Funny!" exclaimed Louise. "Holy Jesus!"
"Well, it all happened such ages ago, and you talk as if it were going on now."
"It is now—always now—to God," exclaimed Louise, fervently; "there is no past—all is now."
This was far too metaphysical for Gwendolen. "You are funny," she repeated.
"Funny—again funny. Ah, but I forget, Mademoiselle is Protestant."
"No, I'm not," said Gwen; "I belong to the English branch of the Catholic Church."
"We have no branch, we are a trunk," said Louise, sadly.