you this, Anne—and you’ll be ’shamed of me, I s’pose.”
“Have you done something naughty, Davy, and is that why you can’t say your prayers?”
“No, I haven’t done anything naughty—yet. But I want to do it.”
“What is it, Davy?”
“I—I want to say a bad word, Anne,” blurted out Davy, with a desperate effort. “I heard Mr. Harrison’s hired boy say it one day last week, and ever since I’ve been wanting to say it all the time—even when I’m saying my prayers.”
“Say it then, Davy.”
Davy lifted his flushed face in amazement.
“But, Anne, it’s an awful bad word.”
“Say it!”
Davy gave her another incredulous look, then in a low voice he said the dreadful word. The next minute his face was burrowing against her.
“Oh, Anne, I’ll never say it again—never. I’ll never want to say it again. I knew it was bad, but I didn’t s’pose it was so—so—I didn’t s’pose it was like that.”
“No, I don’t think you’ll ever want to say it again, Davy—or think it, either. And I wouldn’t go about much with Mr. Harrison’s hired boy if I were you.”
“He can make bully war-whoops,” said Davy a little regretfully.
“But you don’t want your mind filled with bad
