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"Thank God," he whispered, and stood trembling. Then, as though to himself, he said softly: "It is as though her soft hand touched these eyes that will never see again." Billy grinned. He had caught the gasp at the end of the speaker's words; now he knew where lay the stranger's weak spot—his wind! "Hello," Anson accosted. "Goin' to school?".
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I'd lay me down and dee." "Yes, sir, I do," was the answer, swiftly delivered, as is the characteristic of conviction. Billy knew exactly what he was going to hear at Sunday School, and what he was going to see, and there wasn't much of interest in that for a live boy. Consequently he was quite unprepared for the unexpected shock he received on this particular morning, when he trailed dejectedly into the Sunday School room behind his mother and Anson. Anson squatted down beside Maurice. "No, by gosh! you're not so far wrong," he admitted, ruefully. "Somebody is layin' fer me, an' layin' fer me right. It's Bill. Say, Maurice, won't you try an' get him to let me off this time. If you will I won't ferget it in a hurry.".
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