Then he came home, ate his supper
in silence, and went up to his attic. He felt better than he had at noon,
but his heart was still heavy, and he dreaded the next day, not knowing
what he ought to do, or how to do it. This was Thursday evening, but he
didn't mean to go to prayer-meeting. Kitty had asked him, had even coaxed
a little, but he said, "No, not to-night." He felt stiff and sore from
his long sitting under the great tree in the early spring dampness. He
told himself that this was the reason why he was not going to
prayer-meeting; but the real one was, he felt as if he could not possibly
face Mr. Burrows that evening, and _certainly_ not Mr. Holbrook,--of
course, Ellis had told him all about it. He felt very tired, and his
head and limbs ached; he was going to read a chapter in his Bible and go
to bed. He chose the same psalm which had come to him with so much power
that afternoon, read it slowly and carefully, then knelt down to pray,
and as he did so a new trouble loomed up before him. What should he do?
He had prayed for Ellis Holbrook and Bob Turner ever since he began to
pray for himself, but he felt as though he could not possibly pray for
either of them to-night.
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