"We shall always be glad to see you at the regular Wednesday evenin' prayer meetin'," said he, "or to the prayer meetin's in the school-'us; but you must remember it ain't like a meetin' for seckler pupposes, Patience,—it's for prayer, and praise, and the singing of psalms; and you should conduct yourself in a circumspect and becoming manner, as is fittin' for the house of worship; and remember and feel that it's a privilege for you to be there."
This was about the way the deacon talked to Patty, and of course she did not understand one word of it. She tells Flyaway Clifford and Dotty Dimple that grown people in old times almost always talked "too old," and children were afraid of them.
"Yes, my child," added the deacon, "you should realize that it is a precious privilege, and feel to say with the Psalmist,—
"'I joyed when to the house of God,
Go up, they said to me;
Jerusalem, within thy walls,
Our feet shall standing be.'"
Patty was crying by this time very loud, and there was a certain babyish sound in her wail which suddenly reminded Deacon Turner that he was talking to a little girl, and not to a young woman.
"There, there, now, don't cry," said he, patting her head, for her sun-bonnet had fallen back on her neck, "you didn't mean to make fun of religion; I'm sartin sure of that."
"No, I di-idn't, or if I did, I di-idn't mean to," almost howled Patty.
A grim smile overspread the deacon's face. The idea of an infant like that making fun of religion!
"Somehow I was thinkin' you was an older child than what you be," said he, rubbing her silky hair as roughly as a plough would go through a bed of flowers. The action almost drove Patty wild, but the good man meant it most kindly.
"Let's see, I suppose you know your letters now?" added he, going to the other extreme, and talking to her as if she were very young indeed. "And, of course, your mother, who is a godly woman, has you say your catechism. Do you remember, my dear, who made you?"