"Did you sing nothing but hymns?"
"Why," said Jerry, turning red, "we did sing Polly Wolly Doodle at the last. Faith said, 'Let's have something cheerful to wind up with,' But we didn't mean any harm, father—truly we didn't."
"The concert was my idea, father," said Faith, afraid that Mr. Meredith might blame Jerry too much. "You know the Methodists themselves had a sacred concert in their church three Sunday nights ago. I thought it would be good fun to get one up in imitation of it. Only they had prayers at theirs, and we left that part out, because we heard that people thought it awful for us to pray in a graveyard. You were sitting in here all the time," she added, "and never said a word to us."
"I did not notice what you were doing. That is no excuse for me, of course. I am more to blame than you,—I realize that. But why did you sing that foolish song at the end?"
"We didn't think," muttered Jerry, feeling that it was a very lame excuse, seeing that he had lectured Faith so strongly in the Good-Conduct Club sessions for her lack of thought. "We're sorry, father,—truly, we are. Pitch into us hard—we deserve a regular combing down."
But Mr. Meredith did no combing down or pitching into. He sat down and gathered his small culprits close to him and talked a little to them, tenderly and
