“By making a Christian of her.”
“Poor Sybil! Is she as bad as that?” I said, laughing. “She is more in your line than mine, at any rate. She hates popery like fire; I would as soon try to convert the Great Mogul.”
“You are a great puzzle to me, do you know,” said Millicent, looking at me with a glance of searching curiosity. “Catholics as a rule are such ardent proselytizers, and you seem to have no taste in that direction at all.”
“Have you known a great many Catholics before me?” I asked.
“You are the first I may say I have ever known.”
“Then how can you answer for what we are as a rule?”
“I have always understood it,” she replied.
“You have understood, or rather misunderstood, many things about us,” I remarked. “Is Mr. Halsted in love with Sybil, do you think?”
“Mr. Halsted is nothing of the kind. Nice conversation for the Sunday afternoon!” said a sharp, bright voice, and Millicent and I leaped half a mile asunder as Sybil popped her scarlet feather in between us.
“I made sure you would be discussing theology,” she cried, “instead of which I find you discussing me!”