"
"Just think!" said Grandma Keeler, with rapturous sympathy and gratitude,
"how that poor creetur must a' felt!"
"'Orion Spaulding of Weedsville, Vermont,'" Madeline went on--but, here,
I had to beg to be excused, and went to my room to get ready for the
Sunday school.
When I came down again, Grandpa Keeler was seated, completely arrayed in
his best clothes, opposite Grandma, who held the big family Bible in her
lap, and a Sunday-school question book in one hand.
"Now, pa," said she; "what tribe was it in sacred writ that wore
bunnits?"
I was compelled to infer from the tone of Grandpa Keeler's answer that
his temper had not undergone a mollifying process during my absence.
"Come, ma," said he; "how much longer ye goin' to pester me in this way?"
"Why, pa," Grandma rejoined calmly; "until you git a proper understandin'
of it. What tribe was it in sacred writ that wore bunnits?"
"Lordy!" exclaimed the old man. "How d'ye suppose I know! They must'a'
been a tarnal old womanish lookin' set any way."
"The tribe o' Judah, pa," said Grandma, gravely. "Now, how good it is,
husband, to have your understandin' all freshened up on the scripters!"
"Come, come, ma!" said Grandpa, rising nervously, "It's time we was
startin'.
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