XX. JUDITH’S AFTERNOON.
“Green pastures are before me,
Which yet I have not seen.”
“I suppose King will ask me to exchange with him Sunday,” remarked Roger, putting the reins into Judith’s ready hands, after turning out of the parsonage lane. “Which sermon shall I take?”
“The cubit one,” was her unhesitating reply; “it has been in my mind to ask you to preach that again for me.”
“But you will not hear it.”
“Unless you take me with you,” she suggested with a merry laugh.
Roger believed that Judith Grey Mackenzie was the merriest maiden in Bensalem.
“I would if I were going to dine at the parsonage, but there’s no housekeeper there, more’s the pity, I shall take dinner and supper with one of the deacons, and drive home in the moonlight. You would like that.”
“All but the deacon.”