Having done this, Timmy carefully lifted the Bible from between his knees
and let it fall open at the page the pin had found. The text where the
point rested ran as follows:
Deliver my soul from the sword; my darling from the power of the dog.
His father's eyes flickered for a moment and fixed themselves on Timmy
with a worried, disturbed expression. As a child he himself would have
been sternly reproved for reading, even the Bible, during a sermon, but
he supposed that Janet knew better than his own mother had done. Timmy
certainly loved Janet far, far more than he, John Tosswill, had loved his
own good mother. So he averted his eyes from his little son, and tried to
forget all about him.
But John Tosswill did not know his Janet. Though three off from
Timmy, she had become aware that her son was bending over a very big,
shabby-looking book, instead of sitting upright, listening sedately. She
gave him one glance, and Timmy, with a rather confused and guilty look,
hurriedly shut Nanna's Bible, and turned his mind to the sermon. He had
seen what he wanted to see; and further, he had made a mental note of the
page and place.
At last the service was over, and the congregation streamed out of
church.
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