Verty looked thoughtful, and leaning his head on his hand, said:
"I don't know but I prefer the mountains, then. Redbud, I think if I
saw a great deal of you, you would make me good--"
"Oh! I'm afraid--"
"I'd read my Bible, and think about God," Verty said.
"Don't you now, Verty?"
"Yes; I read."
"But don't you think?"
Verty shook his head.
"I can't remember it often," he replied. "I know I ought."
Redbud looked at him with her soft, kind eyes, and said:
"But you pray?"
"Sometimes."
"Not every night?"
"No."
Redbud looked pained;
"Oh! you ought to," she said.
"I know I ought, and I'm going to," said the young man; "the fact is,
Redbud, we have a great deal to be thankful for."
"Oh, indeed we have!" said Redbud; earnestly--"all this beautiful
world: the sunshine, the singing of the birds, the health of our dear
friends and relatives; and everything--"
"Yes, yes," said Verty, "I ought to be thankful more than anybody
else."
"Why?"
"You know I'm an Indian.
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