"I suppose it is my turn now," said Mary, "as long as you want to save Minnie for the last. Could you let me say you a little poetry, or was Luella's enough? I think some poetry sort of mixes things up a little."
"I think poetry is lovely," said Rosanna sweetly. "We loved Luella's verses."
"Well, then I will say some instead of a story." Mary cleared her throat and, rising, made a little bow.
UNAFRAID
| The day I die, I'll quickly go Past all the angels, row on row, Straight up to God; I'll know His face Even up there in that new place. In Sunday School, the way they teach, God is almost too great to reach. They act a little bit afraid; Because the world and all He made. But if He made the heavens blue, He made the sweet wild violets too; And Oh, what careful work it took To plan the small trout in the brook. I know He's just the very size Of father; with most loving eyes. Just big enough so one like me Can safely lean against His knee. |
"Those were lovely verses," said Minnie when Mary had finished. "I wonder who wrote them."
"My teacher wrote them," said Mary. "I think they are real nice."
"I do think it is a waste of time for me to tell a story," said Minnie. "First you know the machine will be here and then we will have to hurry home."
"I would like to hear you tell a story ever so much," said Mary. "I know it would be a nice one, but I must be starting along pretty soon. It is a long way from here to the car track, and I have to stop so often on account of the baby being so heavy. It is so funny about babies, they seem to get so heavy toward night."
"Indeed they do after you have lugged them about all day," said Minnie. "I say I know all about it, dearie."