After Arthur had gone, the story of his adventures was talked over at the table, and Master Lucas again vented his indignation against the cowardly spy who had betrayed Arthur, and against spies and traitors in general. "If it had been my son who had done such a thing, I would never see him more." "Suppose it were your own son who was a heretic?" said Anne. "That is a different matter," replied the baker. "It would be a great misfortune, and much to be deplored, but it would not be a base and traitorous action like the other. Nay, I could forgive heresy—the wildest heresy—in a man, sooner than treachery." "I do not see the treachery," said Anne. "If he warned his sister beforehand what he was going to do, in case she persisted in her error as you call it, she had no cause of complaint. His duty as a Christian stood before his duty to his family, or any other carnal and fleshly ties. I think he did right," said Anne, flushing as she spoke. "I do not see how he could do otherwise." "Would you, then, do so?" asked Sister Barbara. "I would," replied Anne. "I should think it my duty." "Then wouldst thou never again enter thy father's door or receive his blessing!" exclaimed Master Lucas, striking the table with his fist so that the dishes jingled. "Never would I see again a child capable of playing such a villainous part. My curse—" "Dear father!" exclaimed Jack, laying his hand entreatingly on his father's arm. "My dear good father, do not be angry with Anne. She would never do anything to forfeit your blessing, I am sure." "I beg, Jack, that you will not interfere," said Anne, who seemed bent upon raising a storm. "It does not become you to meddle. Let my father say his will." "My will is to bid thee hold thy tongue, for a malapert contrary wench as thou art, and not provoke thy old father to make a fool of himself, or bring on a fit of apoplexy," said Master Lucas, making an effort to control himself and speak in his usual pleasant tone. "Reach me a cup of cool water, my son. It was an evil day that I sent my daughter to a nunnery to learn to despise the honest and natural ties of blood and childly duty among a parcel of fantastic and bigoted old maids—craving your pardon, madam," he added, turning to Sister Barbara. "But it is enough to make a man a heretic in spite of himself, to hear one's own child upholding such notions to one's face. I verily believe more heretics are made by the priests than by any one else." "I wonder what my lady says to Arthur's new notions," said Sister Barbara. "She used to be very strict lady about such matters." "She was greatly grieved and shocked at first," said Jack; "but she is becoming more reconciled of late, and, I believe, she has never shown Arthur any unkindness in respect of them."