"Very easy," said the girl coolly. "She told me herself."
"She told you!"
"Yes."
"How?"
"O, simply enough. I was confessing that Sunday is such a fearfully long day to me, and I did not know what to do with it; and she looked at me as if I were a poor heathen—which I suppose she thought me—and said, 'But there is always the Bible!' Fancy!—'always the Bible.' So I knew in a moment where to place her."
"I don't think religion hurts a woman," said the young man.
"But you do not want her to have too much of it—" the mother remarked, without looking up from her paper.
"I don't know what you mean by too much, mother. I'd as lief she found
Sunday short as long. By her own showing, Julia has the worst of it."
"Mamma! speak to him," urged the girl.
"No need, my dear, I think. Tom isn't a fool."