hat question
Marilla taught me last Sunday. 'Why should we love God?' It says,
'Because He makes preserves, and redeems us.' Preserves is just a holy
way of saying jam."

"I must get a drink of water," said Anne hastily. When she came back it
cost her some time and trouble to explain to Davy that a certain comma
in the said catechism question made a great deal of difference in the
meaning.

"Well, I thought it was too good to be true," he said at last, with a
sigh of disappointed conviction. "And besides, I didn't see when He'd
find time to make jam if it's one endless Sabbath day, as the hymn
says. I don't believe I want to go to heaven. Won't there ever be any
Saturdays in heaven, Anne?"

"Yes, Saturdays, and every other kind of beautiful days. And every day
in heaven will be more beautiful than the one before it, Davy," assured
Anne, who was rather glad that Marilla was not by to be shocked.
Marilla, it is needless to say, was bringing the twins up in the
good old ways of theology and discouraged all fanciful speculations
thereupon. Davy and Dora were taught a hymn, a catechism question, and
two Bible verses every Sunday. Dora learned meekly and recited like a
little machine, with perhaps as much understanding or interest as if she
were one. Davy, on the contrary, had a lively curiosity, and frequently
asked questions which made Marilla tremble for his fate.

"Chester Sloane says we'll do nothing all the time in heaven but walk
around in white dresses and play on harps; and he says he hopes he won't
have to go till he's an old man, 'cause maybe he'll like it better then.
And he thinks it will be horrid to wear dresses and I think so too. Why
can't men angels wear trousers, Anne? Chester Sloane is interested in
those things, 'cause they're going to make a minister of him. He's got
to be a minister 'cause his grandmother left the money to send him to
college and he can't have it unless he is a minister. She thought a
minister was such a 'spectable thing to have in a family. Chester says
he doesn't mind much . . . though he'd rather be a blacksmith . . . but
he's bound to have all the fun he can before he begins to be a minister,
'cause he doesn't expect to have much afterwards. I ain't going to be a
minister. I'm going to be a storekeeper, like Mr. Blair, and keep heaps
of candy and bananas. But I'd rather like going to your kind of a heaven
if they'd let me play a mouth organ instead of a harp. Do you s'pose
they