"Where Cain killed Mabel?"
Izzy's dark eyes lit. He was a gentle and kindly little boy. Emmy Lou felt she would love Izzy. "We call it 'Temple.' But it is today. My Mamma told me to walk ahead and she would catch up with me."
"Today?"
Surely. With such visible proofs of it upon Izzy. Do little boys wear velvet suits with spotless collar and flamboyant tie but for occasions such as Sunday school? Aunties and even Mammas know less about Sunday school than the Georgies and Izzys, who are authorities since they are the ones who go. Emmy Lou put on her little hat even to the elastic. Then her hand went into Izzy's again.
"I thought it was tomorrow?"
Izzy's face was alight as he took in her meaning. She was going with him. His face was alight as he led her along.
"It's 'round the corner?" she asked.
"'Round two corners," said Izzy. "How did you know?"
A golden dome crowned this Sunday school, and wide steps led high to great doors. They waited at their foot, Izzy and Emmy Lou, a dark-eyed little boy in a velvet suit, and a blue-eyed little girl in a gingham dress and scalloped sacque, while others went up and in, old men, young men, old women, young women, little boys, little girls. Waited until Izzy's Mamma arrived and found him.
She was dark-eyed and lovely too. She listened while he explained. Did a shadow, as of patient sadness, cross her face?