"I keep a record of these things--names and dates." Brother Bonaday might have answered-- "Quite so--and _that_ is why." Some churchmen--of the type for which Mr.Colt adequately catered-- revel in professing their faith, and will parade for its holiest sacrament with an unabashed and hail-fellow sociability; and doubtless for these 'brass-band communicants' (as Brother Copas called them) a great deal may be said.

But Brother Bonaday was one of those others who, walking among mysteries, must hush the voice and bow the head; to whom the Elements are awful, and in whom awe begets a sweet and tender shame.

To be docketed as having, on such and such a day at such and such an hour, partaken of them was to him an intolerable thought.

To quote Brother Copas again, "These Neo-Catholics may well omit to fence the tables, confident in the protection of their own vulgarity." Yet Brother Bonaday had another reason, on which the Chaplain hit-- though brutally and by accident--in his next question.
"Haven't anything on your conscience, hey ?" Brother Bonaday had something on his conscience.

His face twitched with the pain of it; but still he made no answer.
"If so," Mr.Colt pursued, "take my advice and have it out." He spoke as one recommending the extraction of a tooth.
"You're a Protestant, I know, though you didn't sign that Petition; and I'm not here to argue about first principles.