I dessay there's some good people Catholics, but I can't say as I take much to them I know.' Mary's face was expressing lively feeling.
'How can they be really good, mother, when their religion lets them do wrong, if only they'll go and confess it to the priest?
I wouldn't trust anybody as was a Catholic.

I don't think the religion ought to be allowed.' Here was evidently a subject which had power to draw Mary from her wonted reticence.

Her quiet eyes gleamed all at once with indignation.
Ackroyd laughed with good-natured ridicule.
'Nay,' he said, 'the time's gone by for that kind of thing, Miss Bower.
You wouldn't have us begin religious persecution again ?' 'I don't want to persecute anybody,' the girl answered; 'but I wouldn't let them be misled by a bad and false religion.' On any other subject Mary would have expressed her opinion with diffidence; not on this.
'I don't want to be rude, Miss Mary,' Luke rejoined, 'but what right have you to say that their religion's any worse or falser than your own ?' 'Everybody knows that it is--that cares about religion at all,' Mary replied with coldness and, in the last words, a significant severity.
'It's the faith, Mary, my dear,' interposed Mr.Boddy, 'the faith's the great thing.

I don't suppose as form matters so much.' The girl gave the old man a brief, offended glance, and drew into herself.
'Well,' said Mrs.Bower, 'that's one way o' lookin' at it but I can't see neither as there's much good in believin' what isn't true.' 'That's to the point, Mrs.Bower,' said Ackroyd with a smile.
There was a footstep in the shop--firm, yet light and quick--then a girl's face showed itself at the parlour door.

It was a face which atoned for lack of regular features by the bright intelligence and the warmth of heart that shone in its smile of greeting.