induced to
attend the little Episcopal chapel where Mrs. Maxwell went, but
"favoured his own meetin'-'us," he said, which was the little white
Unitarian church by the post-office.

"Folks didn't set easy in Mrs. Maxwell's church," he often said, "and he
didn't like to see a minister in a white petticoat, with a black ribbund
around his neck." It didn't seem respectful to him to have so much to do
with the service. But Billy was very devout in his own way, and never
missed service nor Wednesday evening prayer-meeting in his own church.

"H'lo, Billy!" cried Cricket, beaming. "Don't you want to carry my
prayer-book? I want to get those wild roses."

Billy was only too delighted.

"Had a good sermon?" pursued Cricket, in very grown-up fashion, as they
walked along, side by side, after the roses were secured.

"Oh, very decent, very decent," answered Billy, who always nodded from
the text to "Finally."

"What was it about?" went on Cricket, feeling that she must give a
Sunday tone to the conversation.

Billy took off his hat and scratched his head, to assist his ideas.

"'Bout--'bout very good things," he said, vaguely. "We sang a pretty
hymn, too."

"Did you? What was it?"

"That hymn about 'Hand Around the Wash-rag.' I've heard you a-singin'
it."

"Hand around the _wash_-rag! Why Billy Ruggles, what can you mean?"

"Yes," insisted Billy, who had a good ear for music in his poor, cracked
head. "You was singin' it las' night."

"I can't imagine what you mean, Billy. When we were on the piazza, do
you mean? We didn't sing anything about wash-rags, I'm sure. We didn't
sing but three things, anyway, because grandma had a headache."

"It was the first thing you sang," persisted Billy.

"Oh--h! 'Rally Round the Watchword,'" and Cricket, regardless of her
Sunday finery, sat down on a stone to laugh. "You _funny_ Billy!"

Billy grinned, though he did not see the joke.

"That's as bad as what Helen insisted they sang last Christmas, in the
infant class, something about 'Christmas soda's on the breeze!' I don't
know what she means," said Cricket, forgetting that Billy would not
understand. It was such a relief when any one else, even old Billy,
mispronounced words, and thus gave her a chance to laugh at them. It was
her heedlessness that made her make so many mistakes, for her quick eyes
flashed along the page, taking in the meaning and general form of the
words, without grasping the exact spelling.

"Hope you