Never, never again could there be just
such another morning as this - for two of us at least.
On we went, past rush and sedge and weeping willow, by roaring weir
and cavernous lock, into the shadow of grim stone bridges and out
again into the sunshine, past shady woods and green uplands until
at length we "cast anchor" before a flight of steps leading up to
a particularly worn stone gateway surmounted by a crumbling
stone cross.
"Why," exclaimed the Imp, staring, "this is a church!"
"Imp," I nodded, "I believe it is?"
"But to-day isn't Sunday, you know," he remonstrated, seeing it was
our intention to land.
"Never mind that, Imp; 'the better the deed, the better the day, you
know.'"
On we went, Dorothy with the fluffy Louise beneath her arm and the
Imp with cutlass swinging at his belt, while Lisbeth and I brought
up the rear, and as we went she slipped her hand into mine. In the
porch we came upon an aged woman busy with a broom and a very large
duster, who, catching sight of Dorothy's kitten and the Imp's
"murderous weapon," dropped first the duster and then the broom, and
stood staring in open-mouthed astonishment.
Pages:
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201