"'In those days there was no king in Israel; every man did that which was right in his own eyes."
He closed the Book and stole a glance at Prue. Her eyes were so bright with triumph that he had to say:
"Of course that proves nothing about dancing. It doesn't say that the Shiloh girls made good wives."
Prue had the impudence to add, "And it doesn't say that the sons of Benjamin were good dancers."
Her father silenced her with a scowl of horror. Then he made a long prayer, directed more at his family than at the Lord. It apparently had an equal effect on each. After a hymn had been mumbled through the family dispersed.
Prue lingered just long enough to capture the Bible and carry it off to her room in a double embrace. Serina and William tried to be glad to see her sudden interest, but they were a little afraid of her exact motive.
She made no noise at all and did not come down in time to help get supper—the sad, cold supper of a Sunday evening. She slipped into the dining-room just before the family was called. Papa found at his plate a neat little stack of cards, bearing each a carefully lettered legend in Prue's writing. He picked them up, glanced at them, and flushed.
"I dare you to read them," said Prue.
So he read: "'To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven ... a time to mourn and a time to dance.... He hath made every thing beautiful in his time.' Ecclesiastes iii.
"'Let them praise his name in the dance ... for the Lord taketh pleasure in his people.... Praise him with the timbrel and dance.... Praise him upon the loud cymbals.' Psalms cxlix, cl.