It was because she was afraid of missing this master-bit
that she went to church so regularly.
The Sunday after the reception was exceptionally hot. It was
exceptionally dusty too, for Bainbridge tolerated no water carts on
Sunday. It was one of those Sundays when people have headaches. Aunt
Caroline had a head-ache. She felt that it would be most unwise to
venture out. She even suggested that, no doubt, Desire had a
headache, too.
"But I haven't," said that downright young person, looking
provokingly cool and energetic. Her husband groaned.
"Don't look at me," he said hastily. "My excuse is not hallowed by
antiquity like Aunt's but it is equally effective. I have to go down
to the cellar to make ice-cream."
This, as Desire knew, was perfectly legitimate. No ice-cream of any
kind could be bought in Bainbridge on Sunday. Therefore a certain
proportion of the population had to descend into its cellars and
make it. It was even possible to tell, if one were curious, how many
families were going to have ice-cream for dinner by counting the
empty seats at morning service. Nearly all of the more prominent
families owned freezers while many of those who were freezerless did
not go to church, anyway. From which it would seem that, in
Bainbridge at least, the righteous had prospered.
On this hot morning, therefore, Desire collected Mr. McClintock's
belief alone. It was an especially puzzling one, having to do with
the origin and meaning of pain and founded upon the text, "Whom the
Lord loveth he chasteneth.
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