"I am afraid you were playing on Sunday," said my mother, more in sorrow than in anger.
"Indeed, and indeed, mother, I was not playing!" I broke forth, earnestly, my swollen nose making the pious twang involuntary and full of unction. "I was preaching!"
My father walked to the fireplace to hide the laugh he could no longer suppress.
"It is true, my dear!" my over-quick ears caught his remark as she followed him. "I heard the singing, and went to see what was going on."
His voice sank into a low, rapid recitation, and I lost the rest until it rose upon another laugh.
"She and Van Diemen's Land went down together!"
Chapter IV
Oiled Calico
