In reply Eddy made up an impish face at her as she retreated. Then he entered the church himself to inspect progress, returning immediately to take up his position of sentry again. About noon Anderson passed on his way to the post-office, and nodded.
“You can't come in,” the boy called out.
“All right,” Anderson responded. But then Eddy made a flying leap from the church door and caught hold of his arm.
“Say, you can, if you won't tell anybody about it,” he whispered, as if the curious village was within ear-shot.
“I am afraid I cannot stop now, thank you,” Anderson replied, smiling.
“You ain't mad, are you?”
Anderson assured him that he was not.
“They didn't tell me to keep folks out,” Eddy explained, “but I made up my mind I didn't want everybody seeing it till it was done. It's going to be a stunner, I can tell you. There's palms and pots of flowers, and yards and yards of white and green ribbon tied in bows, and the pews are all tied round with evergreen boughs, and to-morrow the smilax is going up. I tell you, it's fine.”
“It must be,” said Anderson. He strove to move on, but could not break free from the boy's little, clinging hand. “Just come up the steps and peek in,” pleaded Eddy. So Anderson yielded weakly and let himself be pulled up the steps to the entrance of the church.
“Ain't it handsome?” asked Eddy, triumphantly.