Think of it, how splendid and
charming!
Uncle Ralph and Aunt Hattie did not like to give her up now, but Grace,
we heard, would come. She wanted to see her mother and her own kin;
maybe she felt she ought.
At the Manse we had just finished prayers. Papa was going to his study.
He wore his Friday-morning face--a sort of preoccupied pucker between
his eyebrows, and a far-away look in his eyes. Friday is the day he
finishes up his sermons for Sunday, and, as a matter of course, we never
expect him to be delayed or bothered by our little concerns till he has
them off his mind. Sermons in our house have the right of way.
Prayers had been shorter than usual this morning, and we had sung only
two stanzas of the hymn, instead of four or five. Usually if mamma is
anxious about anybody or anything, papa is all sympathy and attention.
But not on a Friday. He paid no heed either to her tone or her words,
but only said impressively:
"My love, please do not allow me to be disturbed in any way you can
avoid between this and the luncheon hour; and keep the house as quiet as
you can. I dislike being troublesome, but I've had so many interruptions
this week; what with illness in the congregation, and funerals, and
meetings every night, my work for Sunday is not advanced very far.
Children, I rely on you all to help me," and with a patient smile, and a
little wave of the hand quite characteristic, papa withdrew.
We heard him moving about in his study, which was over the sitting-room,
and then there came a scrape of his chair upon the floor, and a
creaking sound as he settled into it by the table.
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