When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mr. Stevens reminded his son as Thad shoveled his dinner into his face while at the same time enthusiastically telling his parents about his day at the stadium. “And you really should take your hat off at the table,” his father added. “Oh, Howard,” Mrs. Stevens said, reaching out and putting her hand on her husband’s arm. “Just relax and let the boy have his moment. You can see how excited he is. He did take it off while we said grace.” “All right, Marion,” Mr. Stevens relented. “So, Thad, when can we expect to hear whether or not you’ve made the squad?” Thad swallowed a big wad of mashed potatoes and took a gulp of milk. “They said in a couple of days.” He paused and wrinkled his brow and then asked, “Is it wrong to pray that I make it?” He looked