“I’m glad you like them, and we will keep the rest for another sermon-time. Thorny used to do so, and always called this his ‘pew book.’ I don’t expect you to understand much that you hear yet awhile; but it is good to be there, and after reading these stories you will be more interested when you hear the names of the people mentioned here.”
“Yes’m. Wasn’t David a fine feller? I liked all about the kid and the corn and the ten cheeses, and killin’ the lion and bear, and slingin’ old Goliath dead first shot. I want to know about Joseph next time, for I saw a gang of robbers puttin’ him in a hole, and it looked real interesting.”
Miss Celia could not help smiling at Ben’s way of telling things; but she was pleased to see that he was attracted by the music and the stories, and resolved to make church-going so pleasant that he would learn to love it for its own sake.
“Now, you have tried my way this morning, and we will try yours this afternoon. Come over about four and help me roll Thorny down to the grove. I am going to put one of the hammocks there, because the smell of the pines is good for him, and you can talk or read or amuse yourselves in any quiet way you like.”
“Can I take Sanch along? He doesn’t like to be left, and felt real bad because I shut him up for fear he’d follow and come walkin’ into meetin’ to find me.”
“Yes, indeed; let the clever Bow-wow have a good time and enjoy Sunday as much as I want my boys to.”
Quite content with this arrangement, Ben went home to dinner, which he made very lively by recounting Billy Barton’s ingenious devices to beguile the tedium of sermon-time. He said nothing of his conversation with Miss Celia, because he had not quite made up his mind whether he liked it or not; it was so new and serious, he felt as if he would better lay it by, to think over a good deal before he could understand all about it. But he had time to get dismal again and long for four o’clock, because he had nothing to do except whittle. Mrs. Moss went to take a nap; Bab and Betty sat demurely on their bench reading Sunday books; no boys were allowed to come and play; even the hens retired under the currant-bushes, and the cock stood among them, clucking drowsily, as if reading them a sermon.
“Dreadful slow day,” thought Ben, and, retiring to the recesses of his own room, he read over the two letters which seemed already old to him. Now that the first shock was over, he could not make it true that his father was dead, and he gave up trying, for he was an honest boy and felt that it was foolish to pretend to be more unhappy than he really was. So he put away his letters, took the black pocket off Sanch’s neck, and allowed himself to whistle softly as he packed up his possessions ready to move next day, with few regrets and many bright anticipations for the future.
“Thorny, I want you to be good to Ben and amuse him in some quiet way this afternoon. I must stay and see the Allens who are coming over, but you can go to the grove and have a pleasant time,” said Miss Celia to her brother.
“Not much fun in talking to that horsey fellow. I’m sorry for him, but I can’t do anything to amuse him,” objected Thorny, pulling himself up from the sofa with a great yawn.