Solomon Nassim El-Charif was whispering to himself and looking worried. If any of his friends could have heard him, they wouldn’t have understood a single word he said.
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Michael Arthur Patterson carefully lifted one finger at a time off the holes in his recorder. Each time he lifted another finger, the note he played was higher. He was practicing his scales.
Solomon Nassim El-Charif bit his lip and studied the paper before him on the table. Writing was so hard for him! He wished he was poetic like Susannah. She wrote all kinds of stuff.
Solomon Nassim El-Charif looked around the Sabbath dinner table at his family. “Mother, you’re wearing blue. You can be my partner.”
Susannah May Farmer’s room was a little messy. Actually, it was a lot messy. OK, the truth was, the goat stall looked better!
Michael Arthur Patterson ran around with his hands out, laughing. Running into a body, he grabbed hold, calling out, “I got Susannah! Susannah’s it!” “No fair!” Susannah complained, laughing too. “You’re way too good at this!”
“This family meeting is an especially important one,” Dad began. “I want to hear all your opinions. We’ve been studying the Bible with the Pattersons for almost three months now, and your mother and I are convinced that what we’ve been studying is the truth. Do you all agree?”
Michael Arthur Patterson leaned against the window, listening to the hiss and patter of raindrops. Usually he liked the sound of the rain, but it had been raining all week, and he was sick of it.
