Then I went out, noiselessly descending the stairway, and came all
unawares upon the young folk and the children gathered on the sunny
porch, busy with their morning tasks.
They neither saw nor heard me; I leaned against the doorway to see the
pretty picture at my ease. The children, Sam and Benny, sat all hunched
up, scowling over their books.
Close to a fluted pillar, Dorothy Varick reclined in a chair,
embroidering her initials on a pair of white silk hose, using the
Rosemary stitch. And as her delicate fingers flew, her gold thimble
flashed like a fire-fly in the sun.
At her feet, cross-legged, sat Cecile Butler, velvet eyes intent on a
silken petticoat which she was embroidering with pale sprays of flowers.
Ruyven and Harry, near by, dipped their brushes into pans of brilliant
French colors, the one to paint marvellous birds on a silken fan, the
other to decorate a pair of white satin shoes with little pink blossoms
nodding on a vine.
Loath to disturb them, I stood smiling, silent; and presently Dorothy,
without raising her eyes, called on Samuel to read his morning lesson,
and he began, breathing heavily:
"I know that God is wroth at me
For I was born in sin;
My heart is so exceeding vile
Damnation dwells therein;
Awake I sin, asleep I sin,
I sin with every breath,
When Adam fell he went to hell
And damned us all to death!"
He stopped short, scowling, partly from fright, I think.
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