Mr. Seton shook his head as he opened the Bible to read the evening portion. "I hope so," he said, and his tone was dubious—"I hope so."
"Well!" said Elizabeth, as she said good-night to her guest, "has this been the dullest day of your life?"
Arthur Townshend looked into the mocking grey eyes that were exactly on a level with his own, and "I don't think I need answer that question," he said.
"The only correct answer is, 'Not at all.' But I'm quite sure you never sang so many hymns or met so many strange new specimens of humanity all in one day before."
Mr. Seton, who disliked to see books treated lightly, was putting away all the volumes that Buff had taken out in the course of the evening and left lying about on chairs and on the floor. As he locked the glass door he said:
"Lizbeth turns everything into ridicule, even the Sabbath Day."
His daughter sat down on the arm of a chair and protested.
"Oh no, I don't. I don't indeed. I laugh a lot, for 'werena ma hert licht I wad dee.' I have, how shall I say? a heart too soon made glad. But I'm only stating a fact, Father, when I say that Mr. Townshend has sung a lot of hymns to-day and seen a lot of funnies.... Oh! Father, don't turn out the lights. Isn't he a turbulent priest! My father, Mr. Townshend, has a passion for turning out lights. You will find out all our peculiarities in time—and the longer you know us the odder we'll get."
"I have six more days to get to know you," said Mr. Townshend. And he said it as if he congratulated himself on the fact.