"It's a long jaunt!" said he; "a long jaunt!"
"Thar's a long hill to climb before we reach Zion's mount," said Grandma
Keeler, impressively.
"Wall, there's a darned sight harder one on the road to West Wallen!"
burst out the old sea-captain desperately; "say nothin' about the
devilish stones!"
"Thar' now," said Grandma, with calm though awful reproof; "I think
we've gone fur enough for one day; we've broke the Sabbath, and took the
name of the Lord in vain, and that ought to be enough for perfessors."
Grandpa replied at length in a greatly subdued tone: "Wall, if you and
the teacher want to go over to Sunday-school to-day, I suppose we can go
if we get ready," a long submissive sigh--"I suppose we can."
"They have preachin' service in the mornin', I suppose," said Grandma.
"But we don't generally git along to that. It makes such an early start.
We generally try to get around, when we go, in time for Sunday-school.
They have singin' and all. It's just about as interestin', I think, as
preachin'. The old man r'aly likes it," she observed aside to me; "when
he once gets started, but he kind o' dreads the gittin' started.
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