She did not hear one word of the long prayer; she knelt near Aunt Rody; she tried not to sob, or to be afraid, but she was afraid; not now of being found out, but afraid that she was wicked. As long as she lived she would never dare to tell.
And she never did tell, not as long as Aunt Rody lived.
For many a day her heart was heavy with the sin of allowing the innocent to be suspected; but she was not a very brave small disciple.
One night at prayers she surprised them all by saying suddenly and vehemently: “I don’t care if Peter was so wicked; I like him better than anybody in the whole Bible.”
XV. “FIRST AT ANTIOCH.”
“How beautiful it is to be alive!
To wake each morn as if the Maker’s grace
Did us afresh from nothingness derive,
That we might sing: How happy is our case,
How beautiful it is to be alive.”