Solomon Nassim El-charif hung his head as he stood by his schoolteacher’s desk. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Harold. My project is practically finished. But my horse got sick, and I had to spend extra time with him. May I please bring it in tomorrow instead?”
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Susannah May Farmer looked around the big auditorium for her friends. There was such a large crowd there for the concert that it was hard to see anyone she knew.
When they finally found the treasure chest, it was almost as exciting as if it contained gold and jewels.
Michael Arthur Patterson had a whole herd of kangaroos jumping around his insides. The Primary friends had done so well with their program in the city park a few weeks earlier that they had decided to do it again.
Michael Arthur Patterson tipped his head to one side and ran his fingers over the oddly-shaped piece of wood Mr. Fontaine had just handed him. Four little legs, so it must be an animal.
So Solly took a deep breath, let it out in a sigh, and quietly petted Sultan until his eyes stopped showing fear. Then he took extra time brushing Sultan down gently before putting him into his stall for the night and filling his feed dish.
Kenya’s eyes opened wide. “That’s what happened to us!” she exclaimed. Then she put her hand over her mouth.
By Debbonnaire Kovacs 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. Solly had been thinking a lot about the program the primaries planned to have in the park next Sabbath. What could he do? He
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.
