It had been the self-imposed
custom of these two young people to read aloud a chapter every
night as their one vague formula of literary and religious
discipline. When it was produced, Maggie, presuming on his
affectionate and penitential condition, suggested that to-night he
should pick out "suthin' interestin'." But this unorthodox
frivolity was sternly put aside by Jim--albeit, by way of
compromise, he agreed to "chance it," i. e., open its pages at
random.
He did so. Generally he allowed himself a moment's judicious pause
for a certain chaste preliminary inspection necessary before
reading aloud to a girl. To-night he omitted that modest
precaution, and in a pleasant voice, which in reading was
singularly free from colloquial infelicities of pronunciation,
began at once:
"'Curse ye Meroz, said the angel of the Lord, curse ye bitterly the
inhabitants thereof; because they came not to the help of the Lord,
to the help of the Lord against the mighty.'"
"Oh, you looked first," said Maggie.
"I didn't now--honest Injin! I just opened."
"Go on," said Maggie, eagerly shoving him and interposing her neck
over his shoulder.
And Jim continued Deborah's wonderful song of Jael and Sisera to
the bitter end of its strong monosyllabic climax.
"There," he said, closing the volume, "that's what I call revenge.
That's the real Scripture thing--no fancy frills theer.
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