“He'll get well anyway. Don't be a bit uneasy about him,” said the doctor, laughing, as he rung off.
“It's time to go, John.”
Mary was drawing on her gloves. She looked at her moveless husband as he sat before the crackling blaze in the big fireplace.
“This is better than church,” he made reply.
“But you promised you would go tonight. Come on.”
“It isn't time yet, is it?”
“The last bell will ring before we get there.”
“Well, let's wait till all that singing's over. That just about breaks my back.”
Mary sat down resignedly. If they missed the singing perhaps John would not look at his watch and sigh so loud during the sermon. And it might not be a bad idea to miss the singing for another reason. The last time John had gone to church he had astonished her by sliding up beside her, taking hold of the hymn-book and singing! It happened to be his old favorite, “Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood.”