"Do I ever say what I do not mean, Judy?" he answered gravely.
"Say it again. Say you have left us and gone over to the Christians."
"Judy! are you not ashamed!" cried Mrs. Bartholomew. "What do you think of your mother?"
"Nothing," said Judy. "I'm not talking of you, mamma. You are neither one thing nor the other. You are nothing. Have you gone over, David?"
"You know what I said," her brother answered. "I believe that Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah."
"The Christians' Messiah," said Judy scornfully.
"Theirs and ours," said David sorrowfully. "Messiah ben David, the King of Israel."
"Take that!" said Judy, administering a slap on the cheek which was heartily delivered. "You are a mean good-for-nothing, David Bartholomew! and I wish your name was something else."
All the voices in the room cried out upon Judy except her brother's. His colour changed, back and forth, but he was silent She stood in the centre of the room like a little fury.
"Judy, Judy! Sit down!" said Mrs. Bartholomew. But it was doubtful if Judy heard.