"You know, Fred, perfectly well that I have to stay at home with the
children every other Sunday morning in order to allow Lucille to go to
church."
"But how about the other mornings and all the afternoons?" I inquired,
with the effrontery of a hardened sinner seizing his opportunity to take
a saint to task.
Josephine blushed, partly from guilt and partly from indignation. "It
rained torrents last Sunday morning, and Sunday morning fortnight--er--I
was sick. I remember that I was all dressed to go one afternoon when old
Mr. Philipps called and I didn't like to leave him. Besides, I feel as
though I ought to stay at home occasionally on Sunday afternoons in order
to teach the children the Scriptures. The Sunday morning before
that--er--I went. No, it must have been a fortnight previous, for I
recollect now that I had planned to go, when you said that you hated to
skate alone and declined to take the entire responsibility of the
children on the pond on account of little Fred and the pickerel."
"And I said, too, I remember, that in all probability there wouldn't be
black ice again all winter."
"You did, you did," my darling cried, with tragic impetuosity, "and it is
cruel of you to remind me of it."
"Moreover, it was a correct prophecy. It snowed that very night and the
people who waited until Monday were nowhere.
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