Lucy was glad of the suggestion as she was more tired than she wished to acknowledge. The big church was cool and quiet. Worshipers singly and in twos were coming and going. Presently, a woman, and presumably her daughter, came in, and as they passed St. Peter they leaned forward and kissed the shining, metal toe. They passed on to a confessional where the priest could be seen and faintly heard behind the latticed window.
All this was exceedingly interesting to the young people. The two brothers were absorbed more in the building itself than what was going on within; even to what their two young people were doing. Chester, surely was prompted by a spirit of sacriledge when he took from an inner pocket a picture post-card he had bought in Ireland.
"The kissing of the toe reminded me of it," said he, as he handed the card to Lucy, who looked at the picture of an Irishman in the act of kissing his sweetheart, Blarney Castle being shown in the distance. Underneath was the following:
"With quare sinsashuns and palpitashuns,
A kiss I'll venture here, Mavrone;
'Tis swater Blarney, good Father Mahoney,
Kissin' the girls than that dirty stone."
Lucy's father tapped her on the shoulder. "You're in a church. Behave yourself," he said. "Come, let's be going."
CHAPTER XII.
It was evident that, notwithstanding the good intentions which all persons concerned had of not overreaching in the sight-seeing business, Lucy, at least, was feeling its effects. That she would have to remain quiet for some days was the verdict of the physician which her father called. There was no immediate danger, said he to Chester, but the heart action was feeble. A week of absolute rest would remedy that.