incompetent character; and he rather liked Laurie’s Catholicism, such as it was. It must be rather pleasant, he considered (when he considered it at all), to believe “all that,” as he would have said.
So this new phase of Laurie’s interested him far more than he would have allowed, so soon as he became aware that it was not merely superficial; and, indeed, Laurie’s constant return to the subject, as well as his air of enthusiastic conviction, soon convinced him that this was so.
Further, after a week or two, he became aware that the young man’s work was suffering; and he heard from his lips the expression of certain views that seemed to the elder man extremely unhealthy.
For example, on a Friday evening, not much afterwards, as Laurie was putting his books together, Mr. Morton asked him where he was going to spend the weekend.
“Stopping in town,” said the boy briefly.
“Oh! I’m going to my brother’s cottage. Care to come? Afraid there’s no Catholic church near.”
Laurie smiled.
“That wouldn’t deter me,” he said. “I’ve made up my mind—”
“Yes?”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” said Laurie. “No—thanks awfully, but I’ve got to stop in town.”
“Lady Laura’s again?”
“Yes.”
“Same old game?”