Read Online To Make My Bread by Grace Lumpkin - Free Book Online

could never have happened at their old settlement where few people danced, and where the preacher was better liked. And the resentment did not last long.
    The next Sunday all the folks were back again just as if nothing happened. Basil was there, but the rest of Emma’s family stayed at home.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    E MMA would have gone if Granpap had not been obstinate.
    â€œHit’s s’ little,” she said to him. “Other folks have been rebuked.”
    Granpap would not listen. “Hit don’t take a big seed to hurt a sore tooth,” he said. “The preacher hinted at me last year and the year before and I stood it. But last Sunday was the end. I’m not a-going back till they change the preacher. Sam Wesley plays the banjo and because he’s not at church he don’t get a word. I’m not a-going.”
    Kirk walked over toward South Ridge with his gun. John and Bonnie, remembering the story from the Bible, played Abraham and the Lord. Near the spring Bonnie sat under an apple tree. John climbed out on a limb above her and made his voice as big as possible. He called out, “Abraham, Abraham.” And Bonnie, sitting below, answered, “Here am I, Lord.” And the Lord gave Abraham instructions, sometimes being corrected by Abraham who had a better memory.
    Then Bonnie would say, “Now, Isaac, we must go up the mountain for a sacrifice. Come along, Isaac, or I’ll slap ye over.” Isaac was Georgy the puppy, and he was not meek and lowly, but would run away when Abraham tried to pick him up to carry him up the trail. Each time Bonnie came back, and the Lord still resting on the branch called down to her “Abraham, Abraham.” And the play began again until they were tired.
    And the Lord came down from the tree.
    â€œWe ought really to sacrifice something, not play,” Bonnie said. Her eyes stretched out wide, and they looked solemn and earnest.
    â€œWhat?” John asked.
    â€œA young one.”
    John looked at Bonnie. Women got big with child. But Bonnie was little and slim, seven and a half years old, not yet a woman.
    â€œWe haven’t got a young one,” he said.
    â€œThen somebody we love, like . . . like . . . Georgy.” Bonnie’s voice was solemn and it became troubled and hesitant when she looked at Georgy and spoke his name. The puppy ran about at their feet in the grass. Simply the fact that he stayed close to them meant that he had confidence in their power to protect him. And they must betray his confidence.
    John turned away his head. He could not bear it. He looked at Bonnie. She meant every word she had said.
    â€œWe got to sacrifice,” she insisted. “To show we love the Lord. Granpap’s made the Lord mad. We got to sacrifice.”
    John would not say yes. He could do the thing but he would not talk about it. He caught Georgy and held him in his arms. Bonnie could see that he was ready to go. She got the knife from the table in the cabin and lit a large piece of lightwood at the chimney.
    â€œWhat are you young ones up to?” Emma asked her while she was getting the fire.
    â€œNothing,” Bonnie said. She was sunk down in her own life and hardly understood that Emma had spoken.
    Outside John looked up toward Thunderhead. “Hit’s a long way,” he said. He would not have thought it a long way at another time or for another reason, for on the south side the trail to the divide over Thunderhead was not steep or long. With Georgy inside his shirt, John walked ahead of Bonnie up the trail. He carried splinters from the woodpile. Bonnie had the fire and the knife. On the turn of the trail just under Thunderhead Bonnie came up to John.
    â€œLet me feel of him,” she said.
    The puppy wrinkled its nose at her, and sniffed at her fingers.
    â€œHit’s soft, ain’t it?”
    John was ready to throw down the wood and run back with Georgy. He looked at his sister. “Hit’s