"Thursday, isn't it?"
"It is Ascension Thursday."
The church-bells began to ring clamorously and the little girls, walking slowly, ceased their song. The lovers waited. Childhood, hushed with expectancy and moving in the unconscious appeal of its own innocence, was passing them.
The line met by the young priest reached the open door. Kimberly noted the wistful look in Alice's eyes as the little band entered the church. She watched until the last child disappeared and when she spoke to her horse her eyes were wet. Her companion was too tactful to venture a question. They rode until his silence told her he was aware of her agitation and she turned to him.
"Do you know," she said, slowly searching his eyes, "that you are awfully good?"
"If I am," he responded, "it is a discovery. And the honor, I fear, is wholly yours."
"It is something," she smiled, her voice very sweet, "to have lived to give that news to the world."
They rode again in silence. She felt it would be easier if he were to question her, but it was only after some time that he said: "Tell me what the little procession was about."
"I am ashamed to have acted in this way. But this was the day of my First Communion, Ascension Thursday. It was only a coincidence that I should see a First Communion class this morning."
"What is First Communion?"