"What're ye doin'?" said Fly, trying to look round the door, but Jane slammed it in her face.
"If ye don't go away I'll give ye the right good thumpin'," she said. Fly went downstairs.
At tea Jane appeared with a grave face.
"We'll play church after tea," she said, "an' I'll be the preacher."
They arranged the chairs for pews. Patsy rang the dinner bell. Fly was the organist, and played on the table. Jane leant over the back of an arm-chair to preach.
"Mind ye," she said, "I'm not making fun. I'm converted, an' ye've all got to get converted too, or ye'll go to hell for iver and iver. An' ye can't think about for iver an' iver, for it's for iver, an' then it's for iver after that, till it hurts yer head to go on thinkin' any more. We'll all have to quit bein' bad, an' niver fight any more an' tell no lies an' niver think a cross word, an' if we say our prayers God'll give us an insurance, an' then we'll be good for iver after."
Then she read a chapter out of the Bible. But it was not a part the others liked—about Daniel or Joseph or Moses and the plagues—it was a chapter of Revelation. They listened patiently to that, but when Jane said she was going to pray Patsy got up.
"I'm tired," he said, "an' I don't want to get converted. I don't believe that ould boy knowed what he was talkin' about. Andy Graham said he was bletherin' when I told him about us all goin' to hell."
Fly and Honeybird said they wanted to paint, so Jane came out of the pulpit.
"Ye'll just have to get converted by yer own selves," she said, "for I'm not goin' to help ye any more."