But still Emmy Lou failed to pray. Instead her head lifted, and her eyes, opening, showed themselves to be dilated by apprehension. "Mamma starts it when it won't come," she faltered.
Aunt Cordelia endeavored to start it. "Now I lay me . . ." she said with easy conviction.
Emmy Lou, baby person, never had heard of it. Terror crept into the eyes lifted to Aunt Cordelia, as well as apprehension.
"Our Father . . ." said Aunt Katie, coming forward from the shadows. Emmy Lou's attention seemed caught for the moment and held.
". . . which art in Heaven," said Aunt Katie.
Emmy Lou shook her head. She never had heard of that either, though for a moment it appeared as if she thought she had. A tear rolled down.
"Go to bed and it will come to you tomorrow," from Aunt Cordelia.
"Say it in the morning instead," from Aunt Katie.
But Emmy Lou shook her head, and clung to Aunt Cordelia's knees when they would lift her up.
Aunt Cordelia was worn out, herself. One does not say good-bye to a loved sister, and assume the care of a chubby, clinging baby such as this one, without tax. "Whatever is to be done about it?" she said to Aunt Katie despairingly. Then to Emmy Lou, "Isn't there anything you know that will do?"