“Well, I knew it was an awful thing to do in church, and I was so afraid maybe somebody _had_ seen me, although old Dr. Skinner, the rector, was the only one high enough up to look over the pew-top, and he was looking at his Prayer Book. But I felt as mean as though he’d been looking right at me. Well, he finally got through the prayers and began on the First Lesson. It was something out of the Old Testament, that part about how the Jews went back and repaired the broken walls of Jerusalem, each one taking a broken place for his special job, and then how they got scared away, all but a few, from the holes in the walls they were trying to fix up. Dr. Skinner always read the Lessons very loud and solemn, as though he were reading them right at somebody, and he’d sort of turn from one to another in the congregation with his forefinger pointed at them, as if he meant that just for them. What _do_ you suppose I felt like when he turned right towards our corner and leaned ’way over and shook his finger at me, and said in a loud, blaming tone, ‘But Asher continued and _abode_ in _his_ breaches!’ I gave a little gasp, and grandmother turned towards me quick. When she saw the expression on my face (I guess I must have looked funny), she just burst right out into that great laugh of hers--ha! ha! ha! She laughed so she couldn’t stop, and had to actually get up and go out of church, her handkerchief stuffed into her mouth. We could hear her laughing as she went down the walk outside! “You’d have thought she’d be mortified, wouldn’t you? _I_ was mortified almost to death! But she wasn’t a bit. She laughed every time she thought of it, for years after that. It was just like her! She did love a good laugh! Let anything happen that struck her as funny, and she’d laugh, no _matter_ what!” Later on, as we carried the hassocks back to the church and put them in our pew, my aunt said, reflectively, looking round the empty church: “I never come in here that I don’t remember how grandmother used to say the Creed, loud and strong--she always spoke up so clear: ‘From thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead. I believe in the Holy Ghost: The Holy Catholic Church: The Communion of Saints: The Forgiveness of sins--’ and then she’d stop dead, while everybody went on, ‘The Resurrection of the body;’ and then she’d chime in again, ‘And the Life everlasting, Amen.’ You couldn’t help noticing it, she took the greatest pains you should. But if anybody said anything about it she always said that she didn’t believe in the resurrection of the body, and she wasn’t going to _say_ she did. Sometimes the ministers would get wrought up, especially the young ones, and one of them went to the bishop about it, but nobody ever did anything. What _could_ you do? And grandmother went right on saying the Creed that way to the day of her death.”