“Yes—”
“Benny thinks our apple-butter is the best they is. Can we have some on bread, with sugar on top?”
His mother did not answer at once, and he said again, as if relinquishing another ideal, “Oh, well.”
Nancy rose up and kissed him. “Yes, go to the Temple. You might as well.”
“Truly, mom? Oh, Benny, hurrah! She's let me! Come along!”
He ran round the cabin to his comrade, and she heard them shouting and laughing together, and then the muted scamper of their bare feet on the soft road toward the settlement.
The mother said to herself, “He'd get to see him sooner or later.” She drew her breath in a long sigh, and went into the cabin. “What a day, what a day! It seems a thousand years,” she said aloud.
“Are you talking to me, Nancy?” her brother asked from somewhere in the dark.
“No, no. Only to myself, David. Where did I put the baby? Oh! I know. I've let Joey go to the Temple to hear his father preach. Lord have mercy!”