"Allspice," contributed Mr. Brych. "I love the smell of it."
"But it mustn't be too much in evidence."
"No, this is just as it should be."
"And the skin must be just crisp enough."
"Mhm." And again conversation ceased for a space.
"And the sauerkraut must be nice and white."
"In Moravia," said Mr. Brych, "they make the sauerkraut like a sort of porridge. I was there as an apprentice. It's quite runny."
"Oh, come," exclaimed Father Jost. "Sauerkraut has to be strained. Don't talk such nonsense. Why, the stuff wouldn't be fit to eat."
"Well, there you are . . . they do eat it that way down there. With spoons."
"Horrible!" cried the Canon, marvelling. "What extraordinary people they must be, friends! Why, sauerkraut should only just be greased, shouldn't it, Mr. Binder? I don't understand how anyone could have it any other way."
"Well, you know," said Mr. Brych meditatively, "it's just the same with sauerkraut as it is with religion. One man can't understand how another can believe anything different."
"Oh, enough of that!" protested Father Jost. "Why, I'd sooner believe in Mahomet than eat sauerkraut made any other way. After all, reason
