"He'd say anything to sell them," put in Brother Eusebius. "He never thinks of his immortal soul, any more than if he was a poor miserable heretic. He'll tell you they're originals next, taken by Nero at the time. You're all good Catholics, of course?"
"We are not any kind of Catholics," said Mrs. Portheris severely.
"I'll give you my blessing all the same, and no extra charge. But the saints forbid that I should be selling beads made out of their precious bones to Protestants."
"I'll take that string," said momma.
"I wouldn't do it on any account," continued Brother Eusebius, as he wrapped them up in blue paper, but momma still attaches a certain amount of veneration to those beads.
"And what can I do for you, sir?" continued Brother Eusebius to the Senator, rubbing his hands. "What'll be the next thing?"
"The Early Christians," replied poppa laconically, "if it's all the same to you."
"Just in half a shake. Don't hurry yourselves. They'll keep, you know—they've kept a good long while already. Now you, madam," said Brother Eusebius to Mrs. Portheris, "have never had the influenza, I know. It only attacks people advanced in life."
"Indeed I have," replied that lady. "Twice."
"Is that so! Well, you never would have had it if you'd been protected with this liqueur of ours. It's death and burial on influenza," and Brother Eusebius shook the bottle.