"Like to see the oratory?" asked Father Jervis.
"The what?"
"Oratory. The long-journey boats, that have chaplains, carry the Blessed Sacrament, of course; but there is only a little oratory on these continental lines."
Monsignor followed him, unable to speak, up the central passage running forwards; through a pair of heavy curtains; and there, to his amazed eyes, appeared a small altar, a hanging lamp, and an image of St. Michael.
"But it's astounding!" whispered the prelate, watching a man and a woman at their prayers.
"It's common sense, isn't it?" smiled the priest. "Why, the custom began a hundred years ago."
"No!"
"Indeed it did! I learnt it from one of the little guide-books they give one on these boats. A company called the Great Western had mosaic pictures of the patron saint of each boat in the saloon. And their locomotives, too, were called after saints' names. It's only plain common sense, if you come to think of it."
"Are lines like this—and railways, and so on—owned by the State now? I suppose so."
The other shook his head.