ot remain
an unconscious Catholic long. If he studies the matter, and is logical,
he'll wish to unite himself to the Church in her visible body. Look at
England. See how logic is multiplying converts year by year."

"But it's the glory of Englishmen to be illogical," said Peter, with
a laugh. "Our capacity for not following premisses to their logical
consequences is the principal source of our national greatness. So the
bulk of the English are likely to resist conversion for centuries
to come--are they not? And then, nowadays, one is so apt to be an
indifferentist in matters of religion--and Catholicism is so exacting.
One remains a Protestant from the love of ease."

"And from the desire, on the part of a good many Englishmen at least, to
sail in a boat of their own--not to get mixed up with a lot of foreign
publicans and sinners--no?" she suggested.

"Oh, of course, we're insular and we're Pharisaical," admitted Peter.

"And as for one's indifference," she smiled, "that is most probably due
to one's youth and inexperience. One can't come to close quarters with
the realities of life--with sorrow, with great joy, with temptation,
with sin or with heroic virtue, with death, with the birth of a new
soul, with any of the awful, wonderful realities of life--and continue
to be an indifferentist in matters of religion, do you think?"

"When one comes to close quarters with the awful, wonderful realities
of life, one has religious moments," he acknowledged. "But they're
generally rather fugitive, are n't they?"

"One can cultivate them--one can encourage them," she said. "If you
would care to know a good Catholic," she added, "my niece, my little
ward, Emilia is one. She wants to become a Sister of Mercy, to spend her
life nursing the poor."

"Oh? Would n't that be rather a pity?" Peter said. "She's so extremely
pretty. I don't know when I have seen prettier brown eyes than hers."

"Well, in a few years, I expect we shall see those pretty brown eyes
looking out from under a sister's coif. No, I don't think it will be
a pity. Nuns and sisters, I think, are the happiest people in the
world--and priests. Have you ever met any one who seemed happier than my
uncle, for example?"

"I have certainly never met any one who seemed sweeter, kinder," Peter
confessed. "He has a wonderful old face."

"He's a wonderful old man," said she. "I 'm going to try to keep him a
prisoner here for the rest of the summer--though he will hav