Sierra Nevada, being a devout Roman Catholic, always went to early mass
on Sunday mornings, and their mother gave them their baths, to their
great delight and comfort. The bath was all ready for them now, crystal
clear with the jolly sunbeams dancing on its silver disk.

"We'll get a sunshine bath," said Beth, trying to catch the golden
drops.

"Inside and outside," said mother smiling.

"You look so pretty, motherdy," said Ethelwyn approvingly, "So much
prettier than black, cross old 'Vada, who always rolls her eyes at me
and says, 'Miss Effel, you is de troublesomest chile dat ebba was bown.'
You have sense, and in that blue gown, white apron, and cap, you are
pretty. You get prettier all the time you are getting old, mother.
You'll be a beautiful angel when you are very old."

"Thank you," said her mother laughing. "Come on now, do you know your
verse?"

"I did," said Ethelwyn, "but the verse hasn't any sense: it's about St.
Peter's wife's mother being sick with the fever--"

"And St. Peter cut off the priest's right ear, and then he went out and
crew bitterly," said Beth, jumping up and down to see how high she could
splash.

"Elizabeth!" said her mother, going off into spasms of laughter. "You
are a heathen! Can't you ever get things right? I will say, though, I
think the verses they select for infant classes are anything but