The food was all set out on the dining room table: a loaf of Wonder bread and margarine, a bowl of gray-green canned peas and another bowl of potatoes, and a chicken they had somehow managed to cook without the skin turning even slightly brown. It had a color that reminded Nate of Mr. and Mrs. Torvald themselves.

“I never saw a chicken look like that before,” said Junie. “Our chickens are crispier.”

“That’s probably because you buy them at the store in town,” said Mrs. Torvald. “These are boiled. We buy them in bulk, at mission surplus. Vacuum-packed, in the can, so all you have to do is heat them up.”

“Gerald,” Mrs. Torvald said, when they sat down, “will you say grace?”

“Father, we thank you for the blessing of sharing our table on this Sabbath with your children Nathan and June,” he said. “Pray for their souls and for the souls of their loved ones. Grant them your forgiveness for whatever offenses they may have committed that they might know the light of your divine and precious love.”

They all said, “Amen.”

“Why do I need forgiveness?” said Junie. “I didn’t do anything bad. I just got here.” Her face had taken on a worried expression.

“You were born in sin, June,” Reverend Torvald explained to her. “And like all of us, you sin again and again, every day. We are blessed that the heavenly father, Jesus Christ, our Lord, forgives us all our sins and offers eternal salvation to those who accept him as their savior.”

“No matter what I did before?” she asked. “He still forgives me?”

“I’m sure there can’t be anything you would have done in your short life that the Lord couldn’t forgive,” Mrs. Torvald told her.

At the other end of the table Naomi looked anxious to change the subject. “So,” she said, “can you believe that Nate has the first hundred and eleven digits of pi memorized?”

“That is certainly some kind of an accomplishment, Nathan,” said Reverend Torvald. “Though to be honest, I would rather see a young person such as yourself turn his powers of study to the scriptures. Now, there is a subject worthy of carrying in your mind at all times. That’s the only story we need to know.”

“Not that our daughter has done so well in this regard,” Mrs. Torvald added, looking at Naomi first, then Nate.

“But she’s real good at science,” said Junie. “Wait till you see the project her and Nate have been working on. The cloud chamber.”

Neither of the Torvalds appeared particularly interested in that.

“And what exactly is this project designed to prove or illustrate, if I may ask?” said Reverend Torvald. “Remind me.”

Nate considered the question for a moment, trying to assess whether there was anything in the nature of a cloud chamber that could offend Reverend Torvald.