“Aw, Julie,” she said, “you’re so funny! But what I want to know is, what you went back to speak to Brother Seabrook about.”
“I went back to tell him he mustn’t call on me to pray,” Julie replied simply.
“You did? Well, I never!” Mrs. Wicket cried. “For mercy sake, Julie! What’d he say?”
“He didn’t say much. But he won’t ever call on me again.”
“Can’t you pray, Miss Rose?” Elizabeth Bixby demanded.
“No. That is, sometimes I can. I did once. But just to think of it now makes me feel scared.”
“Well, I never did hear of a person telling a preacher a thing like that,” Elizabeth commented heavily. “That certainly is new to me. Hart’s Run’s a funny little place, all right!”
“That ain’t Hart’s Run,” Mrs. Wicket cried ruffling up in defense of her native town, “that’s just Julie’s scariness. I don’t reckon there’s another person in town would have had to tell Brother Seabrook such a thing.”
“Oh, do look at the sky,” Julie pleaded, still obsessed with the idea that if they could only realize the enormous serene beauty overhead, they would understand how little it mattered whether she was afraid to pray or not.
“Oh, for goodness sake, leave the sky alone!” Mrs. Wicket cried. “We ain’t got anything to do with the sky. What I want to know is how in the world you expect to be happy in heaven if you can’t pray. Why, I just know heaven’s made up of prayer and praise.”