"Well, they take it that way. They are not as smart as you, and you ought to be careful."
"It doesn't matter. What they think to-day, they'll forget to-morrow." He was walking beside Augusta, with a slack, indifferent stride, very unlike the step he had when he was full of something. "That reminds me: I've been wanting to ask you a question. That passage in the service about the Mystical Rose, Lily of Zion, Tower of Ivory—is that the Magnificat?"
Augusta stopped and looked at him. "Why, Professor! Did you receive no religious instruction at all?"
"How could I, Augusta? My mother was a Methodist, there was no Catholic church in our town in Kansas, and I guess my father forgot his religion."
"That happens, in mixed marriages." Augusta spoke meaningly.
"Ah, yes, I suppose so. But tell me, what is the Magnificat, then?"
"The Magnificat begins, doth magnify My soul dot magnify the Lord; you must know that."
"But I thought the Magnificat was about the Virgin?"
"Oh, no, Professor! The Blessed Virgin composed the Magnificat."
St. Peter became intensely interested. "Oh, she did?"