Stevie had heard these words many times, yet on each occasion they caused him to tremble. For he feared the Lake of Fire. He strove to think of God and His eternal wrath; he must pray to be spared.

Papa was disappointed that none of the brothers had heard the Call. Not George, Townley, or Ted, certainly not Ludie. Burt was at Hackettstown and Will at Albany Law School, where they surely could not hear it. Someday God would choose him. He would hear the Call and would run to tell Papa. The stern face would relax, the black clad arms would embrace him, ``My son!'' Yet how might he know the Call when it came? Probably, as in Scriptures, a still, small voice would whisper. It would summon him once; if he missed it, never again. What if it came when he was playing, or was asleep and dreaming?

He must not fail to hear it. He was Papa's chosen; therefore, nothing but good could happen to him, even in God's wrathful storms. When the skies grew dark and thunder rolled across the valley, he was unafraid. Aggie might fly into a closet, shut the door and bury her head in the clothes; he dared to wait for the lightning.

Lightning could strike you blind if you were a sinner! But he was good. He clenched his fists and faced the terror. Thunder crashed; barrels tumbled down the mountainsides, and bounced and bounced till their own fury split them open. Lightning might strike the steeples of the other churches; not of Drew Church. A flash illumined the trees as a crooked bolt twigged in several directions. Violet whinnied from the stable.