“G-guess I won't find any trouble about that,” said Jethro, apparently not in the least terrified.
“I want you to tell me why you are going to meeting.”
“To see you,” said Jethro, promptly, “to see you.”
“Don't you know that that is wrong?”
“H-hadn't thought much about it,” answered Jethro.
“Well, you should think about it. People don't go to meeting to—to look at other people.”
“Thought they did,” said Jethro. “W-why do they wear their best clothes—why do they wear their best clothes?”
“To honor God,” said Cynthia, with a shade lacking in the conviction, for she added hurriedly: “It isn't right for you to go to church to see—anybody. You go there to hear the Scriptures expounded, and to have your sins forgiven. Because I lent you that book, and you come to meeting, people think I'm converting you.”
“So you be,” replied Jethro, and this time it was he who smiled, “so you be.”
Cynthia turned away, her lips pressed together: How to deal with such a man! Wondrous notes broke on the stillness, the thrush was singing his hymn again, only now it seemed a paean. High in the azure a hawk wheeled, and floated.