The Lady Superior shut her ears; she had raised a familiar spirit
and could not lay it. She temporized.

"You know your husband has given the child to us. It will be
called the infant Ambrosius."

"Dear, dear!" sighed Mrs. Ginx, "what a name! "

"We wish him to be kept from any worldly taint, and by-and-by his
saintliness may gain you forgiveness in spite of your heretical
perversity. I cannot permit you to give him unconsecrated milk,
and as we wish to treat you kindly, the holy Father Certificatus
has allowed me to make an arrangement with you, to which you can
have no objection--I mean, that you should let me make the sign
of the cross upon your breasts morning and evening before you
suckle your infant. You will permit me to do that, won't you?"

Conceive of Mrs. Ginx's reply, clothed in choice Westminster
English: it asserted her readiness to cut off her right hand, her
feet, to be hanged, drowned, burned, torn to pieces, in fact to
withstand all the torments ascribed by vulgar tradition to Roman
Catholic ingenuity, and to see her baby "a dead corpse" into the
bargain, before she would submit her Protestant bosom to such an
indignity.

"No, mum!" she said; "I couldn't sleep with that on my breast;"
and cried hysterically.

This lower class heretic WAS "brutally refractory." So thought