"But we scarcely ever go—never, indeed, to the parish church—and we are rather distant from any other; so you must say your prayers at home."
"I would certainly prefer going to church," said Mary.
"Going to church!" exclaimed Dr. Redgill in amazement. "I wonder what makes people so keen of going to church! I'm sure there's little good to be got there. For my part, I declare I would just as soon think of going into my grave. Take my word for it, churches and churchyards are rather too nearly related."
"In such a day as this," said Mary, "so dry and sunny, I am sure there can be no danger."
"Take your own way, Miss Mary," said the Doctor; "but I think it my duty to let you know my opinion of churches. I look upon them as extremely prejudicial to the health. They are invariably either too hot or too cold; you are either stewed or starved in them; and, till some improvement takes place, I assure you my foot shall never enter one of them. In fact, they are perfect receptacles of human infirmities. I can tell you one of your church-going ladies at a glance; they have all rheumatisms in their shoulders, and colds in their heads, and swelled faces. Besides it's a poor country church—there's nothing to be seen after you do go."
"I assure you Lady Juliana will be excessively annoyed if you go," said
Lady Emily, as Mary rose to leave the room.
"Surely my mother cannot be displeased at my attending church!" said
Mary in astonishment.
"Yes, she can, and most certainly will. She never goes herself now, since she had a quarrel with Dr. Barlow, the clergyman; and she can't bear any of the family to attend him."
"And you have my sanction for staying away, Miss Mary," added the
Doctor.
"Is he a man of bad character?" asked Mary, as she stood irresolute whether to proceed.