He watched her with an amused, critical air, as she moved lightly from one shelf to the other, reading titles, opening a volume here and there to glance at the frontispiece, stopping to read half a page now and again.
“Like a half-starved child in a pastry-cook’s shop,” he thought, as he followed her movements.
“What have you found there?” he asked at last. The girl was bending over one of the books longer than usual, and he caught a glimpse of her absorbed face from where he sat.
“It’s an essay,—about Christ; whether he was God,” she said, glancing at him brightly.
“Ah,—h’m!” observed the Professor, with an incipient smile of amusement. “That’s not a book for the young person.”
“But I’m not a young person, and this is just the sort of book I want,” Bridget replied eagerly.
“But the Bible tells you so,” objected the Professor, mildly.
She turned, looked at him fixedly a moment, and then laughed. Bridget was charming when she laughed. The Professor involuntarily joined her.
“What I say is quite correct, nevertheless,” he added.
“Of course; but I want to know why I should believe what the Bible says.”