Ma nodded at them, so Laura and Mary slid down from the bench. They had not known there was going to be school on Sunday.
The lady led them to a corner. All the girls from school were there, looking questions at one another. The lady pulled benches around to make a square pen. She sat down and took Laura and Christy beside her. When the others were settled on the square of benches, the lady said her name was Mrs. Tower, and she asked their names. Then she said, “Now, I’m going to tell you a story!”
Laura was very pleased. But Mrs. Tower began, “It is all about a little baby, born long ago in Egypt. His name was Moses.”
So Laura did not listen any more. She knew all about Moses in the bulrushes. Even Carrie knew that.
After the story, Mrs. Tower smiled more than ever, and said, “Now we’ll all learn a Bible verse! Won’t that be nice?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they all said. She told a Bible verse to each girl in turn. They were to remember the verses and repeat them to her next Sunday. That was their Sunday-school lesson.
When it was Laura’s turn, Mrs. Tower cuddled her and smiled almost as warm and sweet as Ma. She said, “My very littlest girl must have a very small lesson. It will be the shortest verse in the Bible!”
Then Laura knew what it was. But Mrs. Tower’s eyes smiled and she said, “It is just two words!” She said them, and asked, “Now do you think you can remember that for a whole week?”
Laura was surprised at Mrs. Tower. Why, she remembered long Bible verses and whole songs! But she did not want to hurt Mrs. Tower’s feelings. So she said, “Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s my little girl!” Mrs. Tower said. But Laura was Ma’s little girl. “I’ll tell you again, to help you remember. Just two words,” said Mrs. Tower. “Now can you say them after me?”
Laura squirmed.
“Try,” Mrs. Tower urged her. Laura’s head bowed lower and she whispered the verse.
“That’s right!” Mrs. Tower said. “Now will you do your best to remember, and tell me next Sunday?”
Laura nodded.
After that everyone stood up. They all opened their mouths and tried to sing “Jerusalem, the Golden.” Not many of them knew the words or the tune. Miserable squiggles went up Laura’s backbone and the insides of her ears crinkled. She was glad when they all sat down again.
Then the tall, thin man stood up and talked.
Laura thought he never would stop talking. She looked through the open windows at butterflies going where they pleased. She watched the grasses blowing in the wind. She listened to the wind whining thin along the edges of the roof. She looked at the blue hair ribbons. She looked at each of her finger nails and admired how the fingers of her hands would fit together. She stuck her fingers out straight, so they looked like the corner of a log house. She looked at the underneath of shingles, overhead. Her legs ached from dangling still. At last every one stood up and tried again to sing. When that was over, there was no more. They could go home.
The tall, thin man was standing by the door. He was the Reverend Alden. He shook Ma’s hand and he shook Pa’s hand and they talked. Then he bent down, and he shook Laura’s hand.
His teeth smiled in his dark beard. His eyes were warm and blue. He asked, “Did you like Sunday school, Laura?”
Suddenly Laura did like it. She said, “Yes, sir.”
“Then you must come every Sunday!” he said. “We’ll expect you.” And Laura knew he really would expect her. He would not forget.
On the way home Pa said, “Well, Caroline, it’s pleasant to be with a crowd of people all trying to do the right thing, same as we are.”
“Yes, Charles,” Ma said, thankfully. “It will be a pleasure to look forward to, all week.”
Pa turned on the seat and asked, “How do you girls like the first time you ever went to church?”
“They can’t sing,” said Laura.
Pa’s great laugh rang out. Then he explained, “There was nobody to pitch the hymn with a tuning-fork.”
“Nowadays, Charles,” said Ma, “people have hymn books.”
“Well, maybe we’ll be able to afford some, some day,” Pa said.
After that they went to Sunday school every Sunday. Three or four Sundays they went to Sunday school, and then again the Reverend Alden was there, and that was a church Sunday. The Reverend Alden lived at his real church, in the East. He could not travel all the way to this church every Sunday. This was his home missionary church, in the West.
There were no more long, dull, tiresome Sundays, because there was always Sunday school to go to, and to talk about afterward. The best Sundays were the Sundays when the Reverend Alden was there. He always remembered Laura, and she remembered him between times. He called Laura and Mary his “little country girls.”