about her, and she was dreadfully sick too, once in a while since
she had the fever. She was a little bit of a woman, coloured
like a wild rose petal, face and body--a piece of pink porcelain
Dutch, father said. She had brown eyes, hair like silk, and she
always had three best dresses. There was one of alpaca or
woollen, of black, gray or brown, and two silks. Always there
was a fine rustly black one with a bonnet and mantle to match,
and then a softer, finer one of either gold brown, like her hair,
or dainty gray, like a dove's wing. When these grew too old for
fine use, she wore them to Sunday-school and had a fresh one for
best. There was a new gray in her closet at home, so she put on
the old brown to-day, and she was lovely in it.

Usually the minister didn't come for church services until
Sunday-school was half over, so the superintendent read a
chapter, Daddy Debs prayed, and all of us stood up and sang:
"Ring Out the Joy Bells." Then the superintendent read the
lesson over as impressively as he could. The secretary made his
report, we sang another song, gathered the pennies, and each
teacher took a class and talked over the lesson a few minutes.
Then we repeated the verses we had committed to memory to our
teachers; the member of each class who had learned the nicest
texts, and knew them best, was selected to recite before the
school. Beginning with the littlest people, we came to the big
folks. Each one recited two texts until they reached the class
above mine. We walked to the front, stood inside the altar, made
a little bow, and the superintendent kept score. I could see
that mother appeared worried when Leon's name was called for his
class, for she hadn't heard him, and she was afraid he would
forget.