"For de ladi de chocolate. Ith it not?" said Brother Demetrius, with an
inducive smile. "It ith de betht in de worl', dis chocolate."
"Don't you believe him," said Brother Eusebius, "he's known as the
oldest of the Roman frauds. Wants your money, that's what he wants."
Brother Demetrius shook his fist in amicable, wagging protest. "That's
the way he goes on, you know--quarrelsome old party. But I don't say
it's bad chocolate. Try it, young lady, try it."
He handed a bit to Isabel, who looked at her momma.
"There is no possible objection, my dear," said Mrs. Portheris, and she
nibbled it.
Dicky invested wildly.
"Dese photograff dey are very pritty," remarked Brother Demetrius to
momma, who was turning over some St. Stephens and St. Cecilias.
"He'd say anything to sell them," put in Brother Eusebius. "He never
thinks of his immortal soul, any more than if he was a poor miserable
heretic. He'll tell you they're originals next, taken by Nero at the
time. You're all good Catholics, of course?"
"We are not any kind of Catholics," said Mrs. Portheris severely.
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