“Sure!” said Billy in a low happy growl.
A long time after this, it might have been the next day, he wasn't sure, or perhaps only a few minutes, he came at another truth:
“Kid, you can't get away from God—even when you try.”
“I'll say not,” said Billy.
“But—when you've sinned—!” speculatively.
“You gotta get it off yer chest.”
“You mean—confess?”
“Sure thing. Miss Lynn tells us in Sunday School about a fella in the Bible got downta eatin' with the pigs in a far country, an' when he come to himself he thought about his father's servants, an' he said 'I'll get up and beat it home an' say I'm sorry!'”
“I know,” said Mark, and was still the rest of the day. But the next morning he asked the doctor how soon he might get up. This was the first real indication that Mark was on the mend, and the doctor smiled with satisfaction. He meant to take off some of the bandages that morning.
That afternoon with his head unswathed, Mark began to ask questions. Before that he had seemed to take everything for granted: