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           DavycameandburiedhisheadinAnne’slap,buthedidnotkneeldown.

           “Anne,”hesaidinamuffledvoice.“Idon’tfeellikeprayingafterall.Ihaven’tfeltlikeitforaweeknow.IIDIDN’Tpraylastnightnorthenightbefore.”

           “Whynot,Davy?”askedAnnegently.

           “Youyouwon’tbemadifItellyou?”imploredDavy.

           Anneliftedthelittlegray-flannelledbodyonherkneeandcuddledhisheadonherarm.

           “DoIeverget‘mad’whenyoutellmethings,Davy?”

           “No-o-o,youneverdo.Butyougetsorry,andthat’sworse.You’llbeawfulsorrywhenItellyouthis,Anneandyou’llbe‘shamedofme,Is’pose.”

           “Haveyoudonesomethingnaughty,Davy,andisthatwhyyoucan’tsayyourprayers?”

           “No,Ihaven’tdoneanythingnaughtyyet.ButIwanttodoit.”

           “Whatisit,Davy?”

           “IIwanttosayabadword,Anne,”blurtedoutDavy,withadesperateeffort.“IheardMr.Harrison’shiredboysayitonedaylastweek,andeversinceI’vebeenwantingtosayitALLthetimeevenwhenI’msayingmyprayers.”

           “Sayitthen,Davy.”

           Davyliftedhisflushedfaceinamazement.

           “But,Anne,it’sanAWFULbadword.”

           “SAYIT!”

           Davygaveheranotherincredulouslook,theninalowvoicehesaidthedreadfulword.Thenextminutehisfacewasburrowingagainsther.

           “Oh,Anne,I’llneversayitagainnever.I’llneverWANTtosayitagain.Iknewitwasbad,butIdidn’ts’poseitwassosoIdidn’ts’poseitwaslikeTHAT.”

           “No,Idon’tthinkyou’lleverwanttosayitagain,Davyorthinkit,either.

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