“They’re all ready and waiting for the round-up,” finished Ted, shortly, but fervently. “I’ll never forget to-day, or the cowboy’s voice when he sang the ‘Inflammatus’ without any accompaniment.” And Ted began to sing it softly.
“When Thou comest, when Thou comest to the judgment,
Lord, remember now Thy people—”
“What’s that about the Shepherd and Bishop of souls?” asked Sue.
“You’re all of you sentimental,” Ruth interposed soberly. “All you need to do is to remember that little schoolhouse at the Forks when you get back home, and do something for it. If it’s not going to be used for a school any more, it could be turned into a chapel, and services held there regularly.”
“Who’d read them?”
“I think father would, or Jimmie, or maybe Sandy, if they could be appointed lay readers,” said Peggie. “I think so.”
“Polly, you’ve started something else,” laughed Isabel, but Polly only smiled. She was too happy to talk.
CHAPTER XXI
A DAY AT THE ALAMEDA