At first the small boys were so hungry that very little was said, but presently when pudding came Mr. Wycherly asked: "Well, Edmund, how did you get on at church?"
Edmund laid down his spoon: "I'm never going back," he said decidedly, "it is a 'bomnable place."
"Edmund!" exclaimed Miss Esperance, "how can you say such a thing. You, unfortunately, did not behave particularly well, though I forgive that, as it was the first time—but, remember, you will go to the church every Sunday, and you will learn to be a good boy when you're there."
"It is," Edmund repeated, unconvinced, "a 'bomnable place, a 'bomnation of desolation place."
The phrase had occurred several times in the earlier part of the minister's sermon before Edmund fell asleep, and commended itself to his youthful imagination as being singularly forceful and expressive.
Miss Esperance sighed. She really felt incapable of further wrestling with Edmund just then, and looked appealingly at Mr. Wycherly. But he dropped his eyes and refused to meet her gaze.
"He," Edmund suddenly resumed, pointing with his spoon at Mr. Wycherly, "never goes there. He"—with even more emphasis and the greatest deliberation—"is a—very—wise—man."
Here the naughty boy wagged his curly head and spoke with such barefaced and perfect mimicry of his aunt, that again catching Mr. Wycherly's eye, she burst into laughter, in which that gentleman was thankful to join her.
"More puddin', please!" Edmund exclaimed, seizing the propitious moment to hand up his plate.
That afternoon neither of the little boys accompanied Miss Esperance to church.