Water sprung from the corners of the school roof, turning it into a gigantic fountain. Saturday mornings at the Beck house were routine, coffee, newspaper, bagels, and Looney Toons in no particular order. He smiled complacently. "Why do you laugh?" he asked. I've a shrewd guess where he's taken refuge; but I'll ferret him out. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer.
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