Hand in hand they skipped down the street as noiselessly as snowbirds in the snowdrift and as gracefully as two windblown leaves. Many people were walking along the street, all dressed in their best clothes and all going in one direction. Suddenly Periwinkle clutched his sister's hand.
"Look, Pearl," he exclaimed excitedly, "there's that tall man with the nice brown eyes, and the tan shoes who looked at Aunt Hetty so funny at the station yesterday. Should we speak to him?"
"It would be nice of us," Pearl replied, and always accustomed to act on the impulse, she called, "Howdy do, Mister! Why is everybody going this way this morning?"
The man, thus addressed, stopped and, looking down on them with one of those smiles of comradeship that won their hearts at once, replied:
"Why, hello! It's Sunday, you know, and we are all going to church. Don't you want to come along?"
"Oh, Aunt Hetty wouldn't—she don't like my clothes, you know."
"I think they're real pretty," replied their new-found friend, smiling a little because of their answer. "Silk aren't they?"
"Yes, trimmed with satin and snow-flake chiffon. I guess we'll go with you, Mister."
"Good!" There was a ring in his voice that the children could not understand. To walk to church hand in hand with the niece and nephew of Hetty Maise would be a novel experience not unattended with some humor—that appealed to him: to win their love would be the victory he most desired.
"Won't you tell me your names, please," he whispered as they entered the church.