"Now, that's just like Eva," said Marie; "just one of her odd speeches."
"Is it an odd speech, papa?" said Eva, whisperingly, as she got upon his knee.
"Rather, as this world goes, Pussy," said St. Clare. "But where has my little Eva been, all dinner-time?"
"O, I've been up in Tom's room, hearing him sing, and Aunt Dinah gave me my dinner."
"Hearing Tom sing, hey?"
"O, yes! he sings such beautiful things about the New Jerusalem, and bright angels, and the land of Canaan."
"I dare say; it's better than the opera, is n't it?"
"Yes, and he's going to teach them to me."
"Singing lessons, hey?—you are coming on."
"Yes, he sings for me, and I read to him in my Bible; and he explains what it means, you know."
"On my word," said Marie, laughing, "that is the latest joke of the season."
"Tom is n't a bad hand, now, at explaining Scripture, I'll dare swear," said St. Clare. "Tom has a natural genius for religion. I wanted the horses out early, this morning, and I stole up to Tom's cubiculum there, over the stables, and there I heard him holding a meeting by himself; and, in fact, I haven't heard anything quite so savory as Tom's prayer, this some time. He put in for me, with a zeal that was quite apostolic."
"Perhaps he guessed you were listening. I've heard of that trick before."
"If he did, he wasn't very politic; for he gave the Lord his opinion of me, pretty freely. Tom seemed to think there was decidedly room for improvement in me, and seemed very earnest that I should be converted."
