Nathan paused. He was very near sobbing. His voice broke several times in attempts to continue, striving to remember orthodox forms of divine supplication which might be appropriate for the present situation.
“He—he—he caught us, oh, God!” went on Nathan. “Oh, God, we beseech Thee—we beseech Thee—not to wreak Thy anger upon us, nor visit us with Thy displeasure—displeasure. Hear our prayers, we pray Thee—we pray Thee—and have compassion upon us—upon us. Mr. C. M. Gridley is mad at my father anyhow, over a suit for some leather that ain’t never been settled up, and now that he knows I’ve kissed his daughter, he’ll probably get action on collection. Mr. John H. Forge, my father, will wreck his displeasure on me, his son. Oh, God, we didn’t mean to do it, God,—that is, we meant to do it but didn’t mean to get caught. Therefore shield and protect us in Thy infinite mercy, oh, God, and turn not Thine ear from us—Thine ear from us. Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil; for Thine is the power and the glory forever. Amen!”
Nathan turned quickly, anxiously.
“Did I say enough?” he demanded. “I suppose I might have laid it on stronger.”
I held some such idea, but it was unethical and inappropriate now to return and reopen the prayer. I said God was assumed to know everything and inferred that undoubtedly He realized the exigency of the present circumstances anyhow.
“What’ll we do now?” Nathan next asked. “Had we better go west?”
“No,” I finally decided. “Let’s wait and see how the prayer takes hold. The Bible says ‘Knock and ye shall find; seek and it shall be opened unto you’. I say we trust Him.”
“You mean go home?”
“Well, we can sort of sneak up and see what’s happened. And if the prayer don’t do nothin’ then we can think about going west afterward.”
This possessed sound points and as the stars were coming out and the frogs were piping shrilly in the boglands, we arrived by back roads and streets at the Forge cottage.