Those walks to church, through the golden
completeness of the summer evenings, were always very pleasant to
us, and we never hurried, though, on the other hand, we were very
careful not to be late.
This particular evening was particularly beautiful. It was cool
after a hot day, and wheat fields all about us were ripening to
their harvestry. The wind gossiped with the grasses along our
way, and over them the buttercups danced, goldenly-glad. Waves of
sinuous shadow went over the ripe hayfields, and plundering bees
sang a freebooting lilt in wayside gardens.
"The world is so lovely tonight," said the Story Girl. "I just
hate the thought of going into the church and shutting all the
sunlight and music outside. I wish we could have the service
outside in summer."
"I don't think that would be very religious," said Felicity.
"I'd feel ever so much more religious outside than in," retorted
the Story Girl.
"If the service was outside we'd have to sit in the graveyard and
that wouldn't be very cheerful," said Felix.
"Besides, the music isn't shut out," added Felicity. "The choir
is inside."
"'Music has charms to soothe a savage breast,'" quoted Peter, who
was getting into the habit of adorning his conversation with
similar gems.
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