"I'm going
to church."
"Take me with you," said Lionel Hezekiah promptly.
Salome shook her head.
"I can't, dear. Your Aunt Judith wouldn't like it. Perhaps she
will let you go after a while. Now do be a good boy while I am away,
won't you? Don't do any naughty things." "I won't do them if I know
they're naughty," conceded Lionel Hezekiah. "But that's just the trouble;
I don't know what's naughty and what ain't. Prob'ly if I went to Sunday
school I'd find out."
Salome limped out of the yard and down the lane bordered by its asters
and goldenrod. Fortunately the church was just outside the lane,
across the main road; but Salome found it hard to cover even
that short distance. She felt almost exhausted when she reached
the church and toiled painfully up the aisle to her mother's old pew.
She laid her crutch on the seat, and sank into the corner by the window
with a sigh of relief.
She had elected to come early so that she might get there
before the rest of the people. The church was as yet empty,
save for a class of Sunday school children and their teacher
in a remote corner, who paused midway in their lesson to stare
with amazement at the astonishing sigh of Salome Marsh
limping into church.
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