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“Are your going to church?” she asked, disappointment drawing her lips to a tremulous curve., “The whale went splurgin’ an’ splutterin’ through the waves, mebbe blowin’ up a big waterspout like we see them doin’ in the jography picters. Then Joner prayed like everything an’ wrastled with the Lord, an’ his prayer was heerd, an’ the whale spit him up on the bank.”, How did he know her name, she wondered, yet answered more bravely than she felt. “Yes, sir.” She thought it best to be as polite as possible. “I’m alone now, but the boys are expected every minute.” She would say “boys” even if Clarence didn’t come; it sounded more protecting..