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           Iain’tgotfaith.I’mscaredsomepinain’tsoniceaboutit."

           Tomsaid,"Don’troustyourfaithbird-highan’youwon’tdonocrawlin’withtheworms."

           "Iknowthat’sright.That’sScripture,ain’tit?"

           "Iguessso,"saidTom."InevercouldkeepScripturestraightsence

           Ireadabookname’TheWinningofBarbaraWorth’."

           Machuckledlightlyandscroungedtheclothesinandoutofthebucket.Andshewrungoutoverallsandshirts,andthemusclesofherforearmscordedout."YourPa’spa,hequotedScriptureallthetime.Hegotitallroiledup,too.ItwastheDr.Miles’Almanachegotmixedup.Usedtoreadever’wordinthatalmanacoutloudlettersfromfolksthatcouldn’tsleeporhadlamebacks.An’laterhe’dgivethempeopleforalesson,an’he’dsay,’That’sapar’blefromScripture.’YourPaan’UncleJohntroubled’imsomeaboutitwhenthey’dlaugh."Shepiledwrungclotheslikecordwoodonthetable."Theysayit’stwothousan’mileswherewe’regoin’.Howfaryathinkthatis,Tom?Iseenitonamap,bigmountainslikeonapostcard,an’we’regoin’rightthrough’em.Howlongyas’poseit’lltaketogothatfar,Tommy?"

           "Idunno,"hesaid."Twoweeks,maybetendaysifwegotluck.Look,Ma,stopyourworryin’.I’ma-gonnatellyousomepinaboutbein’inthepen.Youcan’tgothinkin’whenyou’regonnabeout.You’dgonuts.Yougottothinkaboutthatday,an’thenthenex’day,abouttheballgameSat’dy.