"Let us all rise and repeat together the Lord's Prayer. And
please remain standing for the hymn-selection one-eighteen."
We all stood up and said the Our-Father-Which-Art-In-Heaven
prayer, and then everybody except me began singing a slow,
sweet-sounding song I'd never heard before about the Holy Night.
As soon as we sat down, Bess left the organ and went behind
the curtain. I didn't know what would be next. "Papa, will we get
the presents now?"
"Not yet," he whispered. "I think the schoolteacher's going
to speak to us."
Mister Shepherd went over to the pulpit stand. First, he said
good evening to us all, and then he began making a speech.
He spoke about as loud as Brother Milligan, but I couldn't
understand much of what he was saying. I could always understand
Brother Milligan, for he said the same things every time-all
about dying and going to Hell and somebody putting goats on one
side and sheep on the other for Judgment Day. I knew all the part
about hellfire and brimstone burning and about weeping and
wailing and gnashing of teeth.
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