“Thanks--thanks, my dear. These tenths and elevenths and sixteenths are somewhat confusing to one's memory, but you always remember them. Yet, if my memory does not play me false, that is a text which most young ladies would remember. It refers, I think, to the Israelitish ladies making off with the jewellery--always a most fascinating subject.” “It does not, Nathaniel,” she said sharply. “And I wish you would reflect that it is not quite in good taste to discuss sacred subjects in this light tone before--a stranger.” “My dear, you know very well that I am the last person to speak lightly on such subjects.” “I hope so. Let us say no more about it.” “Very well, my dear; I'm quite willing to drop the subject. But, my dear, now that it occurs to me, why should I drop it? Why should you monopolise every subject connected with--with--ahem--our religious observances? It strikes me that you are a little unreasonable.” His wife ignored this attack, and turning to Fan, remarked that the evening was so warm and lovely they might spend half an hour in the garden after supper. “Yes, that will be charming,” said Mr. Churton. “We'll all go--Constance too,” he added, with a little vindictive cackle of laughter. “Don't be alarmed, my dear, I sha'n't smoke--pipes and religion strictly prohibited.” “Mr. Churton!” said his wife. “Yes, my dear.” Constance rose from her seat. “Will you come with us, Constance?” said her mother. “Not this evening, mother. I wish to read a little in my room.” After bidding them good-night, she left the room. “Wise girl--strong-minded girl, knows her own mind,” muttered Mr. Churton, shaking his head, conscious, poor man, that he had anything but a strong mind, and that he didn't know it. His wife darted an angry look at him, but said nothing. “My dear,” he resumed. “On second thoughts I must ask to be excused. I shall also retire to my room to read a little.” “Very well,” she answered, evidently relieved. “I don't quite agree with you, my dear. I don't think it is very well. There's an old saying that you can choke a dog with pudding, and I fancy we have too much religion in this house,” and here becoming excited, he struck the table with his fist. “Mr. Churton, I cannot listen to such talk!” said his wife, rising from her seat. Fan also rose, a little startled at this domestic jangling, but not alarmed, for it was by no means of so formidable a character as that to which she had been accustomed in the old days. “I will join you presently in the garden, Fan,” said Mrs. Churton, and then, left alone with her husband, she proceeded to use stronger measures; but the little man was in plain rebellion now, and from the garden Fan could hear him banging the furniture about, and his voice raised to a shrieky falsetto, making use of unparliamentary language. CHAPTER XIX