you were going to sleep in it, Kitty, you're so
particular," Amanda objected. "Get busy and help some."

"I spoke for the big bed," Kitty reminded.

"Yes, and it was selfish of you. We're going to draw for the big bed. I
told you that before."

There was a shout of laughter a minute later when Kitty pulled the short
slip for the bed on the floor.

Sarah Blake offered to change with her, but the others objected.

"You're an obliging dear, Sarah," Kitty said appreciatively, "but I will
stay where I'm put. I don't want to take your place."

Later in the night Sarah wished that she had. She wondered as she shrank
to the edge of the bed and tried to make herself as small as possible,
if three persons to a bed on the floor, wouldn't have been preferable to
the rail which fell to her lot.

It was long past midnight when the last joke was told, the last giggle
suppressed. The fun might have gone on indefinitely if, from somewhere
in the house, Amanda's uncle's boot hadn't fallen ominously, and
Amanda's aunt cleared her throat audibly.

Morning found them up with the larks. There was a stroll down the shady
lane before breakfast, and afterward, when the dishes were cleared away
and the bedrooms restored to proper order, Amanda's uncle insisted upon
piling them all in the big farm wagon and taking them to church.

"It seems to me that it is so much easier to be good--that is, to be
religious, in the country," Blue Bonnet said as they neared the
meeting-house, and the bell in the small tower rang out slowly. "There's
something comes over you when you hear the bell calling, and see the
people gathering--"

"'A sort of holy and calm delight,'"

Kitty quoted.

Blue Bonnet nodded.

"I reckon so--that's as near as you can come to it. There are feelings
there aren't any words for, you know, Kitty--kind of indescribable."

The sight of seven pretty, attractive girls--city girls--in one pew,
occasioned some comment in church; otherwise there was scarcely a ripple
to disturb the calm that rested upon the congregation.

"Unless some one will kindly volunteer to play the organ to-day," the
minister said, rising in the pulpit, "we shall have to sing without
music. Our organist is sick."

Blue Bonnet glanced about her. No one seemed inclined to offer services.
There was a silence of several seconds. The minister waited. Then
Amanda's aunt leaned over and whispered something in Blue Bonnet's ear.

Blue Bonnet rose inst