“We’re having Sunday-school, the singing part, and you may come if you’re good, and know a verse, and won’t baptize the Sunday-school,” said Beth, multiplying conditions rapidly.

“I know a verse that father says he thinks ought to be in the Bible,” said Nan.

“Let’s not have Sunday-school,” she continued, snuggling down on Mrs. Rayburn’s shoulder.  “It’s so nice here, and I want to tell you ’bout my dream I had the other night.  Dreamed I went to heaven awhile, and when I came home I slid down fifty miles of live wire and sissed all the way down like a hot flatiron.”

“There’s a gold crack in the sky now that shows a little weenty bit of Heaven’s floor, I think, right now,” said Ethelwyn, going to the west window.

They all followed her, and sure enough there was the gold of the sky shining through the misty rain clouds.

“Now, if God and the angels would just peek out a minute, I’d be thankful,” said Elizabeth.

CHAPTER V The New Way

      It’s—­hard—­to—­work—­
      And easy to play;
    I’ll tell you what we’ve done,
      We play our work
      And work our play,
    And all the hard is gone.

The children were always glad when Mrs. Flaharty came to wash, for she was never too busy to talk to them, nor to let them wash dolls’ clothes in some of her suds, nor, in her own way, to converse, and to explain things to them.

One Monday morning the two were in the back yard with gingham aprons tied around their waists for trails, and with one of Aunty Stevens’ bright saucepans which they put on their heads in turn.  In this rig, they felt that their appearance left little to be desired.

They were having literary exercises while Mrs. Flaharty was hanging the white clothes on the line, and, by reason of her exceeding interest in the proceedings, she took her time about it too.

In the midst of Ethelwyn’s recitation of “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” she paused to say, after, “The eager children cry,”

“What do you s’pose the silly things cried for?”

“’Cause they didn’t have any lamb, prob’ly,” promptly replied Elizabeth from the audience, where she sat surrounded by her dolls.  “Hurry up, sister, it’s my turn.”

“Is it ager, children, you’re askin’ about?” asked Mrs. Flaharty, flopping out a sheet.  “If you’d ever had the ager, what wid the pain in your bones an’ the faver in your blood, you’d be likely to cry—­whin you had the stren’th.”

“Is it shaking ager?” asked Elizabeth doubtfully.  “Oh, I didn’t know that.  Come and sit down on the steps, Mrs. Flaharty, and I’ll tell a story I made up for this special ’casion.”

“It’s troo wid the white does I am, an’ I reckin I can sit and take me breath before I begin on the colored; besides, I’d have to be takin’ away the foine costumes ye has roun’ your waists, if I wint now.”  So Mrs. Flaharty sat down ponderously.