from Naugatuck Daily News
Dora's Easter Service
by Ellis Parker Butler
The church was a blaze of beauty. Thousands of beautiful flowers filled the chancel with white loveliness, and scented the air, and the body of the church seemed a radiant garden, for everybody was out to celebrate the Easter in an array of rich costumes and beautiful headdresses.
Among the latest comers was a stylishly dressed lady with her little girl, who marched up the aisle beside her in that contented consciousness of being well clad, which seems the birth-right of the gentle sex.
They took their places in a vacant pew, which had evidently been reserved for them and the little girl was no sooner seated than she began to tug at her mother's sleeve.
"Mamma," she said, in a very audible voice, "where's the eggs?"
"Be still, dear," said her mother.
"But I don't see the eggs," complained the little girl. "Is they up there by the flowers?"
"Now, Dora, be quiet or mamma will have to take you home."
"But I want to see the eggs, mamma."
By this time half the congregation was interested in the child and the mother's face showed her vexation.
"Dora," she said, rather crossly, "you must be quiet. There are no eggs here. Mamma will let you have some pretty eggs when she goes home."
"Blue eggs?" asked the child.
"Yes, dear."
"An' red eggs?"
"Yes."
"Mamma!"
There was no response, and the little girl pulled at the mother's sleeve.
"Mamma!"
"Well, Dora, what do you want?"
"Let's go home, mamma."
"Dora, do be quiet."
"Mamma! Let's go home and get the red and blue eggs."
"No, no! now, Dora. Be quiet, like a good little girl."
"But I want to go home an' get the eggs."
The lady made no response. "Mamma!" said the child.
The lady made no response.
"Mamma!" said the child.
No reply.
"Mamma!" she said again. "See that man up there."
"Yes, dear, that is the minister."
"Well, look at his head. He ain't got any hair on it."
"Be still, dear."
"It looks just like an egg, don't it, mamma?"
"Dora," said the mother, very crossly, "if you do not be still I shall punish you when we get home."
"But, mamma," said the child, "his head ain't blue like my eggs is goin' to be, is it?"
Without a word the mother lifted the little girl down from the pew, and taking her by the hand, led her from the church. Her face was rather red, but not entirely vexed, for she knew every one was looking at her, and she was conscious of having the most expensive hat in the congregation. And the last thing I heard the little girl say was:
"I guess they hain't got any chickens in this church, has they, mamma?"
