Lynde had mended them beautifully and never said a word to Marilla about them.
But Davy’s cup of iniquity was not yet full. He was to discover that one sin demands another to cover it. They had dinner with Mrs. Lynde that day, and the first thing she asked Davy was,
“Were all your class in Sunday School to-day?”
“Yes’m,” said Davy with a gulp. “All were there—’cept one.”
“Did you say your Golden Text and catechism?”
“Yes’m.”
“Did you put your collection in?”
“Yes’m.”
“Was Mrs. Malcolm MacPherson in church?”
“I don’t know.” This, at least, was the truth, thought wretched Davy.
“Was the Ladies’ Aid announced for next week?”
“Yes’m”—quakingly.
“Was prayer-meeting?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“You should know. You should listen more attentively to the announcements. What was Mr. Harvey’s text?”
Davy took a frantic gulp of water and swallowed it and the last protest of conscience together. He glibly recited an old Golden Text learned several weeks ago. Fortunately Mrs. Lynde now stopped questioning him; but Davy did not enjoy his dinner.
He could only eat one helping of pudding.
