Then everybody sat down and a very big, very old woman rustled up to the platform. She had mixed yellow and gray hair that looked like old corn silk piled in ropes on her head and loose downy cheeks that wobbled as she walked. Moreover, she flashed a sparkling lot of gold teeth, a black-ribboned pince-nez and a ruffled blouse covered with brooches, and chains that clinked with authority. There was a silence as she looked over the audience. Marcia hoped her heart did not thunder out her guilty presence.

“I am going to tell you little folks about Sin,” said the lady in a sweet, whining Sunday-School voice. “Look what I have here. A glass of pure water, a white rabbit’s foot and a bottle of black ink. The rabbit’s foot represents the purity of your souls when you are little children. The ink is black like sin and the pure water is the Spirit of Goodness. Does everyone see?”

Marcia craned her neck and saw the rabbit’s foot held up.

“Now, the rabbit’s foot I dip in the pure water of goodness and see? It stays as white as snow. But then I dip it into the ink of Sin and look! Sin makes the soul black.”

This turned out to be absolutely true and there was a murmur as the lady dangled the black rabbit’s foot before the astonished audience. Marcia gripped her seat, feeling faintly sick with the knowledge of her own rabbit’s foot soul turning black with sin inside her. She heard the slow sugary voice drone on, “Now, children, what do we mean by Sin?”

No one answered. The lady looked around, frowning impatiently.

“Come, come, children, I’m sure we know what Sin is. Come, Mary Evelyn, you’ve been coming to Sunday School regularly, what is Sin?”

“Ice cream,” said Mary Evelyn hopefully.

Someone tittered.

“No, no, ice cream isn’t a sin, except when it is forbidden,” said the lady sharply. Mary Evelyn pouted. Marcia felt her own hand going up almost of its own accord.

“There’s a little hand. What is Sin, dear?”

“Going to the wrong Sunday School,” Marcia said clearly.

This was even worse than ice cream for an answer. The lady was scowling as if she wished she had never dirtied her nice rabbit’s foot for the benefit of these young stupids. Furthermore, it made Lena and Mary Evelyn turn around and look at the offender. Marcia felt her face burning hot, and her stomach felt as if she’d been riding on a streetcar. She wished urgently that she might drop dead, but then someone opened the door and called out, “Are you through, Miss Marshall? The children may go to their classes now, and we can resume the discussion at Collection time.”

With a burst of desperation Marcia ran for the open door and hurtled herself into the great outdoors, falling down on the same step as before and bruising her other knee. She ran down the street toward home, certain of being chased by a pack of Presbyterians and was only reassured at the corner of Maple by the Kandy Kitchen sign. This cheery sight reminded her that she still had her penny so she went inside. At the candy counter she hesitated between a licorice shoestring and a chocolate peppermint that might have a penny prize in it. She chose the peppermint and was rewarded by biting on a coin at once, which allowed her to have a second candy. She loitered over this one, making it last till she had finished a wonderful funny paper the Kandy Kitchen man had opened up over the ice cream table. Instead of being about Buster Brown and Mary Jane, this had a magical story about some one named Little Nemo. Marcia pored over this, happily sucking on her peppermint. She felt mature and independent now, ashamed that she had ever been so childish as to tag after Lena and Mary Evelyn. Suddenly she realized that she was biting on a second penny, unheard-of good fortune, and this reward gave her an inspiration.