"Thou art Peter," he quoted, for he was fairly well 
up on Church dogma, and accepted it literally, " and upon 
this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell 
shall not prevail against it. And I will give unto thee 
the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatsoever thou 
shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven ; and what- 
soever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in 
This was a most significant point with Catholics, apt 
to be assailed by non-Catholics, and he knew the exact 
phraseology, for he had read it often and heard it pro- 
nounced from the pulpit. 
" What is the rock ?" she asked, not connecting the 
apostle with the spiritual significance of his name. 
"Peter is the rock. The Church is built on him. There 
now, be off with you." Mr. Butler was busy thinking 
of something else at the time. 
She had gone away; but it was with a vague idea of 
a tomb or grave in which Peter was lying, and over which 
was built a material church not unlike their own, St. 
Timothy's. It had never become any clearer, to speak 
of, for as she grew older she paid less and less attention 
to it. 
St. Timothy's and the convent school at Germantown, 
where she was educated, were peculiar institutions to 
her. She had been taken to the church, year in and year 
out, until she was twelve, and then she had been packed 
off to the quiet retreat of the Sisters of the Holy Child- 
hood, at St. Agatha's, and there she stayed, barring 
periodic visits to her home, until she was seventeen. The 
church, with its tall, dimly radiant windows, its high, 
white altar, its figures of St. Joseph on one side and St. 
Mary on the other, clothed in golden-starred robes of 
blue, and wearing halos or carrying scepters, had impressed 
her greatly. The church as a whole—any Catholic church 
—was beautiful to look at—soothing. The altar, during 
high mass, lit with a half-hundred candles or more, and