"His seat is in the Heavens" must mean something, they argued.
They were quite sweetly reverent about it. They merely obeyed the
symbolism of primitive age.
"I shall go to Heaven," Tim said once, when they discussed dying as if
it were a game. He wished to define his position, as it were.
"But you haven't been to London yet," came the higher criticism from
Judy. "London's a metropolis."
Metropolis! It was an awful thing to say, though no one quite knew
why. Part of their dread was traceable to this word. Ever since some
one had called it "the metropolis" in their hearing, they had
associated vague awe with the place. The ending "opolis" sounded to
them like something that might come "ontopofus"--and that, again,
brought "octopus" into the mind. It seemed reckless to mention London
and Heaven together--yet was right and proper at the same time. Both
must one day be seen and known, one inevitably as the other. Thus
heavenly rights were included in their minds with a ticket to London,
far, far away, when they were much, much older. And both trips were
dreaded yet looked forward to.
Maria, however, held no great opinion of either locality.
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