Often a big, black-striped, brown butterfly came sailing in through one of the windows, followed the draft across the room, and out of another.

I was thinking something funny: it was about what the Princess had said of other people, and whether hers were worse.

I looked at my father sitting in calm dignity in his Sunday suit and thought him quite as fine and handsome as mother did.

Every Sabbath he wore the same suit, he sat in the same spot, he worshipped the Lord in his calm, earnest way.

The ministers changed, but father was as much a part of the service as the Bible on the desk or the communion table.