a dome of silver, with a lucent star or two on the slope of the west. Earth-stars gleamed warmly out here and there, where homesteads were tucked snugly away in their orchards or groves of birch.
“The church will be jammed to-night,” said Eben. “It’s so fine that folks will come from near and far. Guess it'll be exciting.”
“If only father would testify!” sighed Mollie, from the bottom of the pung, where she was snuggled amid furs and straw. “Miriam can say what she likes, but I do feel as if we were all disgraced. It sends a creep all over me to hear Mr. Bentley say, ‘Now, isn’t there one more to say a word for Jesus?’ and look right over at father.”
Eben flicked his mare with his whip, and she broke into a trot. The silence was filled with a faint, fairy-like melody from afar down the road where a pungful of young folks from White Sands were singing hymns on their way to meeting.
“Look here, Mollie,” said Eben awkwardly at last, “are you going to stand up for prayers to-night?”
“I — I can't as long as father acts this way,” answered Mollie, in a choked voice. “I — I want to, Eb, and Mirry and Bob want me to, but I can't. I do hope that the evangelist won't come and talk to me special to-night. I always feel as if I was being pulled two different ways, when he does.”
