"Then put a cross on the steeple, in the porch, over the pulpit even. Why on the Table? You know as well as I do that the thing is Pre-Reformation, Roman usage."
"A little earlier," retorted Paul.
"But not early enough. Did Paul have a cross in the catacombs?"
"Possibly," said Paul, nettled.
Miss Bishop uttered an indignant exclamation. "Not of that sort," she said.
Mr. Kestern linked his arm in Paul's. "The lad doesn't mean to defend Ritualism," he said kindly. "I know my boy too well. Keep to the Word of God, Paul, and you won't go wrong."
"But, father," began his son——
Mr. Kestern pressed his arm. "That will do, Paul," he said. "I want to ask our friend something. The theatre service for the last night of the year is definitely settled, Miss Bishop; will you say a few words?"
Miss Bishop did not at once reply. Then: "I hate the place, Vicar," she said; "you know I do. I don't believe in using it. The whole atmosphere reeks of the devil. Last year I could hardly bring myself to go inside."
"Perhaps, possibly—but if we can perhaps draw the people there——"