She sat down on a chair near the window and there was silence.
Chuckles regarded her reflectively; then he lifted up his voice:
"And, please God, perhaps we'd better wait till nex' time, becorse supper is ready. Amen."
Then he sat up and began eagerly to put on his socks. Monica came to assist him.
"God and me have been talking," he assured her with a grave nod. "God has quite forgiven me for not going with you. He's purfeckly pleased with me now."
Then Monica lowered her head and pressed her lips on the curly head.
"And so have I forgiven the little boy who told his aunt he hated her."
"That was Satan," said Chuckles in the same solemn voice. "He tolded me to say that, and he hurried me to say it, so I did it quick as anyfing."
"But you are sorry now?"
He looked at her with a little twinkle in his eyes. "Could I have two baked apples, do you fink?"