Rotha was so much confounded that she had nothing to say. This was overturning all her traditions.
"What do you go to church for, Rotha?"
"I ought to go—to think about God, I suppose."
"Well, and would much dressing help you?"
Rotha considered. "I don't think it helps much," she confessed.
"You say, you ought to go for such a reason;—what is your real reason?"
"For going? Because mother took me; or made me go without her."
"You are honest," said Mr. Digby smiling. "You will agree with me that that is a poor reason; but I am glad you understand yourself, and are not deceived about it."
"I don't think I understand myself, Mr. Digby."
"Why not?"