“Here’s one of the original inhabitants,” remarked Eusebius.  “He’s been here all the time.  I hope the ladies don’t mind looking at him in his bones?”

“Thee, you can pick him up,” said old Demetrius, handing a thigh-bone to momma, who shrank from the privilege.  “It ith quite dry.”

“It seems such a liberty,” she said, “and he looks so incomplete without it.  Do put it back.”

“That’s the way I feel,” remarked Dicky, “but I don’t believe he’d mind our looking at a toe-bone.  Are his toe-bones all there?”

“No,” replied Demetrius, “I have count another day and he ith nine only.  Here ith a few.”

“It is certainly a very solemn and unusual privilege,” remarked Mr. Mafferton, as the toe-bones went round, “to touch the mortal remnant of an Early Christian.”

“That altogether depends,” said the Senator, “upon what sort of an Early Christian he was.  Maybe he was a saint of the first water, and maybe he was a pillar of the church that ran a building society.  Or, maybe, he was only an average sort of Early Christian like you or me, in which case he must be very uncomfortable at the idea of inspiring so much respect.  How are you going to tell?”

“The gentleman is right,” said Brother Eusebius, and in considering poppa’s theory in its relation to the doubtful character before them nobody noticed, except me, the petty larceny, by Richard Dod, of one Early Christian toe-bone.  His expression, I am glad to say, made me think he had never stolen anything before; but you couldn’t imagine a more promising beginning for a career of embezzlement.  As we moved on I mentioned to him that the man who would steal the toe-bone of an Early Christian, who had only nine, was capable of most crimes, at which he assured me that he hadn’t such a thing about him outside of his boots, which shows how one wrong step leads to another.

We fell presently into two parties—­Dicky, Mrs. Portheris, and I holding to the skirts of Brother Demetrius.  Brother Demetrius knew a great deal about the Latin inscriptions and the history of Pope Damasus and the chapel of the Bishops, and how they found the body of St. Cecilia, after eight hundred years, fresh and perfect, and dressed in rich vestments embroidered in gold; but his way of imparting it seriously interfered with the value of his information, and we looked regretfully after the other party.

“Here we have de tomb of Anterus and Fabianus——­”

“I think we should keep up with the rest,” interrupted Mrs. Portheris.

“Oh, I too, I know all dese Catacomb—­I will take you everywheres—­and here, too, we have buried Entychianus.”

“Where is Brother Eusebius taking the others?” asked Dicky.

“Now I tell you:  he mith all de valuable ting, he is too fat and lazy; only joke, joke, joke.  And here we has buried Epis—­martyr.  Epis he wath martyr.”

The others, with their lights and voices, came into full view where four passages met in a cubicle.  “Oh,” cried Isabel, catching sight of us, “do come and see Jonah and the whale.  It’s too funny for anything.”