Milady Marguerite DeMornay is starting out her new life in the country in Pembine, Wisconsin, with her two big dogs. One dog is her longtime friend “Cask,” a St. Bernard. The other dog is her new friend, “Mass,” a Mastiff. Roaming the countryside, Milady discovers four beautiful little sand dunes in the middle of a field of wilderness. Day by day, Bible verses about the King of the Jews she finds written by a stick in each sand dune. Cask is all for these Scripture verses. But Mass is against these Scripture verses. What will Milady do about the King of the Jews?
MILADY
By Mr. Morgan P. McCarthy
Miss DeMornay just got done moving to the country. She had come from the big city of Oshkosh, Wisconsin, and now she lived in Pembine on Young’s Lake, in northern Wisconsin. And for her first time in her life the young woman had a yard five acres large. She brought her pet he-St. Bernard with her in her move, and now he had a land big enough for his free spirit and his spontaneous sprints. His name was “Cask.” And Miss DeMornay went out and adopted an equally large dog to join them here in the countrysides in a family of three—a he-Mastiff she called “Mass.”
This girl was “Milady.”
And Milady DeMornay was once again dressed in her favorite outfit, one perfect for this somewhat cool and somewhat warm day of early October. She had on a long-sleeved Argyle sweater full of dark blue diamonds and dark yellow diamonds front and back and down both sleeves. Her cuffs hugged her wrists. And her hem hugged her waist. And she also had on faded blue jeans, with a flare leg and with a zipper-button closure and with two pockets and a watch pocket in front and with two
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pockets in back. In the tall grass beside her were her blue and yellow knee socks and her blue and yellow sneakers. “Boys,” she called out to Cask and Mass, “it feels good to be barefoot like this, even with all of these pieces of things out here that stick up out of the ground. A girl cannot go barefoot in the city, with all of that concrete and with glass lying around on the sidewalks sometimes.” She then spread out her arms straight out at her sides and did spin in place in the wide open freedom of the rural life and said, “Weeeee!” Pembine was a wonderful new world for Milady and her Cask and now her Mass, too.
Then Milady declared, “Let the game begin.” And she picked up a Frisbee from before her feet, and she showed it to them in demonstration; then she called out, “Let’s play ‘Fetch!’” Her near and dear Cask the St. Bernard knew what his mistress meant. They played this together before in the city.
But back then they had to go to the park to play fetch with this Frisbee, because their city yard was too small for such a game. And now Cask was as excited as Milady to play this old game in this new and vast place. As for Mass the Mastiff, he had never played Fetch before. And he did not understand the word of the game that she proclaimed just now. And right away the dogs’ mistress hurled this toy out into the field far away. At once Cask darted toward it even before it landed. But Mass stood there, watching and cocking his big head to the side in learning. And Cask snatched it up in his teeth off of the field grass of ground and did come back running with it in his big mouth. And when he came back to her, he let it fall upon her bare feet, and she said, “Good job, good boy.” She then petted Mass on his head, and she said, “Are you ready to play now, good Mass?” And he now knew how to play Fetch. And in reply, the Mastiff looked out toward the field before them, ready to do with the flying toy what his fellow pet dog had just done in this fun. And Milady DeMornay flung the Frisbee out into the field for throw number two. And both giant dogs raced after this Frisbee, both arriving there right after it landed. But Mass hesitated. Cask hesitated not. And the St. Bernard grabbed up the plastic toy and triumphantly marched back to his mistress with the prize in his muzzle and did drop the toy before
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Milady’s feet. “Good job, Cask,” said the mistress. And she said, “Good try, Mass.” And the mistress leaned down and affectionately kissed both beloved dogs on their heads. Then she said, “My wonderful new Mastiff, you’ve got to try to grab it with your teeth.” And he leaned his big self against her legs, and she stepped one step not to tip over. “Wonderful Mass,” she said to him. “I love you two big dogs.” And now the new member of the family knew everything that he needed to know to play this unique game between dog and mistress. And Milady then proclaimed, “And now throw number three, big boys.” And she bent her arm way back and threw her arm way ahead, and the Frisbee went well farther than a dog could catch it in the air on any run. It sailed even off of the land, and it landed into the lake with a quiet splash. “Why, it flew right into Young’s Lake!” exclaimed Milady in surprise.
She had not meant to throw this that far. But the two giant dogs were right away leaping into the water to go after it. And once again Cask was the one to retrieve it first. And he grabbed it out of the water in his strong teeth and dog paddled back up to shore. Mass dog-paddled after him and did get to shore before Cask did. And Mass, without the catch in his jaws, raced Cask back up to their mistress. And Mass got there before Cask did. And Mass looked up to Milady and cocked his head to the side at her and asked for approval in his eyes. And approval Milady did give him. She knelt down and threw her arms around his big neck and gave him a hug and a sweet word. And when she saw the Frisbee that Cask had let fall at her feet for his third time in today’s Fetch, she did the same to him—hugging him around his big neck and saying sweet things to him, too. Then a contrary spirit came upon the new dog in the family. Maybe he was disgruntled at three losses today. Maybe he was feeling left out. Maybe he was a sore loser. In any case, what Mass went and did put an early end to today’s game. What did the Mastiff do? He grabbed the Frisbee from the ground, bit his teeth down into it, and did bend it up and pierce it with holes and put tears in it. He then went ahead and let it fall at his new mistress’s feet. And he then turned away from his mistress and ran off toward the lake and did jump back into the water and proceeded to enjoy a little canine diversion in the water as dogs do.
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Milady and Cask looked at each other. Milady picked up the wrecked Frisbee. Milady looked out upon the new dog in Young’s Lake. She said, “He cheated, Cask.” Cask understood. Miss DeMornay did not know what to do. If she were a born-again believer, she could pray to her Heavenly Father for wisdom, and God would give wisdom to her. But Milady was not a born-again believer, and God would not hear her prayers because of this. And she had not another with which to share her concerns who could speak her language. Even beloved and faithful Cask could not speak to her and tell her what she ought to do with Mass. And Miss Milady Marguerite DeMornay felt a storm coming into her new happy life with two great big dogs.
The next day, Milady DeMornay stood upon the front edge of her front yard right before the little country road, To her left this country road stretched a half-mile to the highway. To her right this country road took a right turn and continued on past summer cabins unto its dead end. Where Milady lived here was once an old farm. So many buildings of yellow were scattered around in her five acres of rustic Wisconsin. There was a slaughter-house with a second floor. There was a horse barn with barren walls and a dirt floor. There was a big barn whose holey roof let in little circles of sunlight upon its large floor. And there was a silo right up against the big barn. There was also a little barn with steps going to an upper empty floor and with a ground floor of a place for vehicles and a chicken coop in its back and a room for logs and firewood in its corner. There was even an outhouse. All of these structures were painted yellow on their exteriors. The big old farmhouse also was painted yellow. But this farm was now just a relic. And these nice extra buildings were no longer being used. But they were all wondrous and ever-fascinating to explore and to search out for this woman discovering life in the quiet and spacious countryside. And Milady decided to call this place on Young’s Lake “God’s Country.” As Miss DeMornay stood upon the edge of this little road, she looked out across the countryside across the road. On that other side of the road was her neighbor’s property. That part of Pembine was not Milady’s property. This land over there was so secluded that she did not even see
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a house or a garage or any other structure over there. There may not even be a cabin in that yard. All that Milady saw was vast flat meadows of field grass and some trees and bushes and no activity. This land across the little road had an even greater pastoral charm to Milady than did her own yard. She wanted to explore it and to revel in its magical isolation. Would she go alone? No, everywhere she went her Cask went with her. She would summon Cask. And, yes, her new Mass had to see what she would see over there with her as well. She would summon Mass. And she turned back toward her house, and she called forth, “Oh Cask. Oh Mass. Let’s go for our first walk in the country.” Lo, first the St. Bernard, then the Mastiff came out into the open and appeared in the front yard. And her two big dogs came bounding up to her. And they both got there at the same time. Cask stood along her right hand side. And Mass stood along her left hand side. Their mistress at once began to pet them both along their backs at the same time to both sides of her where she stood. She had to bend her elbows just to pet them thus because of their great stature. And with no further wait, Milady with her two dogs crossed the road to the land beyond. And they all walked in accord for a little while deeper into this strange property with maybe no home.
Then she saw something off close by all of a sudden. It was a most peculiar landscape in the middle of nowhere. It did not look like a man-made landscape to her. It looked like it was a natural landscape. She did not stop to pause and wonder. Instead she quite ran up to it. And she stood before it. And she dared not step out into it. Nor did the big dogs venture into it. It was like little plains of sand amid the field grass. There were four of them. And they were each about the size of her new living room of her new house. They were not the sandy beaches of Lake Winnebago back in Oshkosh. They were not the sandboxes for children in the Oshkosh parks. They were not the deserts of sand in the Arab nations that she had heard about. “Why, these are real little sands,” exclaimed Milady Marguerite DeMornay. Each of these oases of sand were different shapes and different sizes, but they all had sand as their common characteristic. And Wisconsin’s wild grass and wild weeds and other
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wild flora surrounded each one individually and collectively. It was like God had put these little paradises of sand in the middle of a regular field of country. In awe, Milady studied them and tried to figure them out. Then she remembered. Such things as these were called “sand dunes.” “Sand dunes, Cask, Mass,” said Milady. These sand dunes showed to this woman who knew not God the wisdom of God as Creator. So new and divine did these four sand dunes strike Miss DeMornay that she dared not trespass upon them for fear of committing sacrilege. She stood before the sand dune closest to her and looked down and did not step out into it. Cask felt much regard with them, too, because his mistress did. And he put his big forefeet upon the edge of field grass up against the nearest sand dune to himself, but did not step out into this sand dune. As for Mass, he also stepped to the edge between the field grass and the sand of the sand dune closest to himself, and he looked up at his new mistress, and saw her face, and did not continue farther. In reverence, despite her ignorance of the Maker, Milady said, “These sand dunes must be holy ground.” She felt like she must not step upon holy ground. And the woman stepped back away from her sand dune in regard for God. Cask saw her do this, and he did the same thing before his sand dune. But Mass did not step away from his sand dune. Again did Milady say, “This must be ‘God’s Country.’” And she said it with more praise to God in reference to this land of sand dunes even more than she had in reference to her own new land and new lake just a moment ago when she still stood upon her side of the little road. Behold, the Mastiff putting his nose out upon the sand dune in front of him. “No! No! Mass, get out of there!” yelled out Milady in alarm.
Alarmed himself by the alarm of his new mistress, Mass jerked back his head away from this sand dune and ran away from it a short distance. In sorrow for having caused Milady such discomfort, he came up to her and sat down before her and proffered his big paw in petition for forgiveness from her. She took his paw in both of her hands, and she shook it, and she said, “I’m sorry, Mass. I panicked. I forgive you. Can you forgive me?” And in reply he buried his head in her arms and purred like a gentle lion. Reconciled and obedient to the cause of sacredness, the three then walked all about these
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four sand dunes, looking upon them, but not treading upon them. And Milady spoke first words about her own Creator. She said, “I believe that all that is was made by a most wise Maker. The same God Who made these sand dunes also me and you, Cask, and you, Mass. In a time long ago He made the first man and the first woman and the first St. Bernard and the first Mastiff. I would not even be surprised if He made people and dogs on the same day. He made my land long ago. He made my lake long ago. He made field grass long ago. He made all of Wisconsin long ago. And who knows when He made those four sand dunes, good boys.” After having said this, Milady felt a cool early October wind blowing upon her blue and yellow argyle sweater and upon her bell bottom blue jeans. And she said, “I’m glad that I have my sneakers and socks on today. Let us go home and get inside the warm house, big boys.” And with this the three jogged back to the house on her side of the little road.
The next day, Milady got out of bed and remembered the sand dunes in the vast land across the road. She said at once, “Boys, shall we go over there and look around again?” Cask gave a bark in accord like unto a cannon blast. Mass gave a bark in opposition like unto a peal of thunder. “Okay, Mass. Cask and I shall go, and you shall be left behind,” she said. Then Cask gave a series of barks like unto firecrackers going off. The Mastiff now changed his mind after having heard his mistress’s reply. “Well, boys, let’s be off at once,” said Milady DeMornay. And with her favorite blue and yellow outfit on, the young woman went out into the fields with her St. Bernard and her Mastiff. But this time she brought her purse with her. It was a medium-sized purse with long straps that hung on her shoulder and diagonally across her torso and down to along her opposite hip. In this purse was a Gideon King James Bible and other things. This Bible was definitely something that Milady did not want in her purse or anywhere. But she had promised Mom and Dad, in a moment of compromise, that she would take this everywhere she went when she left the house. This was a birthday present to her last year, and her parents meant well, being born again believers; but surely did Milady not like the Holy Bible hanging around her. And that compromise came when they just got done singing “Happy Birthday”
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to her at the family table with a cake and candles. She did not want to hurt Mom and Dad’s feelings. And from then on this Gideon Bible was in her purse, albeit unread. And yesterday, she had forgotten to bring her purse in her discovery of those four sand dunes. This time, though begrudgingly, Miss DeMornay had her Bible with her. True, the purse upon her person felt good like her argyle sweater and blue jeans. But true, also, the little King James Bible was an albatross to her life without God. Forgetting these convicting thoughts, Milady took in the sights of Pembine’s countrysides on this land across the road. And before long mistress and pet dogs came upon the four sand dunes. To Milady this was a type of homecoming. For Cask this was a type of encore. For Mass this was a type of dull routine. Behold, writing drawn in the sand of the first sand dune this time! And, lo, a stick lying upon the sand dune below the mysterious message. The mistress stopped in front of this sand dune, and she read out loud its message to her family of three with her: “It is written, ‘And set up over his head his accusation written, THIS IS JESUS THE KING OF THE JEWS.’ Matthew 27:37.” This had to be a verse in the Bible. Someone out there was preaching to any who might pass by. And Milady was offended. Milady was not the lady to preach to. Milady was a woman without Jesus. And this Bible verse about Jesus the King of the Jews most certainly clashed with her admiration for the Maker of sand dunes of just the day before. What Milady did not know was that this Jesus the King of the Jews was the Maker of sand dunes as well. Then she sought ways to oppose this verse in the sand. But she dared not step out into this sand dune and scratch this Scripture off of the sand with her sneakers.
She saw that stick there. That must have been the stick used by this unknown man of God to write this writing in the sand. She dare not touch and pick up this stick and scratch across this message in the sand with it. She then came upon the idea that she could discredit this lone Bible verse in the sand by way of finding mistakes in it. How could one tell if this in the sand were exactly as that in the Holy Bible? If she found a mistake in this verse, or if she found that this were the wrong verse, or if she found that this were a wrong reference, maybe then she could scratch it out with her foot or with
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this stick. Then it would not matter. And this nasty Word of God she would take out of this sand. Then all four sand dunes would be beautiful to the lost woman all over again. So she went and opened up her pocket New Testament for her first time, seeing if this message were all wrong. She searched the Scriptures not long before she found the book of Matthew. It was the first book of her little book. And when she found chapter twenty-seven verse thirty-seven, she meticulously checked it out. Alas! All was word-perfect and character-perfect and number-perfect.
And Milady huffed and said “Rats!”
Cask looked upon her with a countenance that was opposite to her countenance as regarded this Bible verse. She disagreed with it. He agreed with it.
Mass looked upon her with a countenance even more offended than was her countenance at this unsavory revelation. She despised the writing. He hated the writing.
Yet neither mistress nor St. Bernard nor Mastiff dared do anything to the Word of God down there in the sand. Unhappy with this sand dune, Milady DeMornay cleared her throat and stuffed that nasty little Bible back into her purse, shut up her purse, and said, “There!”
Cask looked upon her as if to say about this mysterious witness-warrior, “He could be right about this King of the Jews.”
And Mass looked upon her as if to say about this Word of God in “her sand dune,” “Crucify it! Crucify it!”
She looked upon her feet. No. She looked upon her hand. No. She looked upon the writing stick. Yes. And Milady said, “Do your thing, O Mass. And, Cask, stay out of the way.”
Mass looked out upon God’s Word boldly with eyes of rebellion. But the Words and the sand caused him to cower and not to step out into the sand dunes. God was there in the sand dunes. God was there in all of the sand dunes.
In coercion, the mistress said, “The stick, Mass. The stick.”
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Compelled by his mistress and driven by his own heart of evil, the Mastiff, without touching the sand with any part of his physical self, did reach down his head and grab a hold of this writing stick in his teeth and brought it out of the sand dunes. He dropped it shamefully upon the grass of the field.
Appeased, Milady said to him. “Good, Mass.” He looked from her to the stick in the grass and back to her. She told him, “That’s good enough for now, good boy.” But that was not good enough for him. The evil Mastiff went on to grab up this holy stick in his powerful muzzle and to bite down into it and to chew it up into pieces that he spat out contemptuously upon the field grass. And when he was done, this stick would never write another Scripture in the sand again.
The pet had disobeyed his mistress. Yet his mistress, hardhearted toward God herself, instead went on to praise him, saying, “Job well done, O Mass.” And she petted him on his head and then kissed him on his head.
Cask sought a petting and a hug from his mistress for having obeyed her orders. And Milady gave him a petting and a kiss, also. But this was not done in favoritism. Then the four left these sand dunes.
Then the next day the three got up for a new morning. The first thing that the dog mistress said, was, “Too bad for us someone is ruining our sand dunes.” Cask proffered his right fore paw for a handshake, and Milady shook it with her right hand. Then he went to the front door, put that same right paw upon it and gave a bark like a bellows. “You want to go there again. Don’t you?” asked Miss DeMornay. “Back to those sand dunes. They’re no good anymore. Jesus people are vandalizing them with Holy Bible words.” Not giving up, her St. Bernard went ahead to stamp his front left paw upon the carpet three times. In understanding, Milady DeMornay said, “Three. You’re right. There are still three sand dunes that are not full of Jesus stuff.”
And Mass the Mastiff raised his right fore paw and brought it straight from left to right in front of his neck as a man would do in indicating a fatal cut across the throat. “You’re right there, Mass,”
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said his mistress. “That’s what I want to do to the one who is doing this to my sand dunes.”
Just then Cask growled at Mass and glared upon him. And Mass backpedaled away from Cask.
It seemed to Milady that her Cask and her Mass held different understandings one from another about this King of the Jews. But right away she got to thinking if the other three sand dunes were still okay and all right, or if Christ stuff had been written in them as well. Whatever it was, this Christ had surely divided the St. Bernard from the Mastiff. Her family was now fighting among each other. Cask was for Jesus. Mass and herself were against Jesus. It was one against two, and it was two against one.
“Let us go and find out,” said the mistress. For her particularly, talk about God the Father as a Higher Power pleased her with religion when she saw Him as the Creator. But talk about God the Son as the Saviour of the world and as any person’s own Redeemer—that went too far, and that was too much religion. The three walked briskly across this land beyond the little road, and they quickly saw the four sand dunes just up ahead in their speedy travels. The first sand dune still had its message there. And the other three sand dunes? The next one had writing in it. The third one and the fourth one did not have writing in them. “Oh no. Here we go again,” said Milady in reproach. The three walkers stepped right up to this second little sand dune. And the dog mistress read out loud its drawn message to the three of them: “Milady, it is written, ‘And the superscription of his accusation was written over, THE KING OF THE JEWS.’ Mark 15:26.” She grabbed the sides of her favorite argyle sweater along her waist and pulled it down along her blue jeans along her hips in distaste. “Well…I should have known!” she said. “Curse that Christian!” She was angry for a moment. Then she sought to calm down. Cask looked upon her in a compassion and a faithfulness. Mass, staring out upon this Bible verse, had become angry, and he had not sought to calm down. He dared now to put his right fore paw out unto the sand and to set it down upon the sand. Lo, he was not struck dead by God. A short moment passed.
He then dared to reach out his left fore paw and did likewise put that upon this nearest edge of this sand dune right up against the field. He was still not smitten down by the Lord God. He looked at
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Cask, who was still reverently upon the wild field of grass with all four paws. Mass became self-conscious and lost his confidence. And the mastiff stepped back out into the ground of meadow. Then Mass looked at his mistress and tempted her to step out onto this sand dunes as he did. If but for a moment. Nobody here now had dared to step out upon any of these four sand dunes before until the heedless Mastiff had. Milady balked. Then she said, “Now he even knows my name whoever he is and wherever he lives.” This Scripture verse had indeed in its salutation a reference to this Milady in it. Then Miss DeMornay said, “Where’s the stick, for crying out loud? He had to have written this with something. Somebody go and find the stick!” This young woman who hated Jesus thought that maybe she could walk around this sand dune along its edge and maybe scratch this Bible verse out with the very stick that had written it in the sand. At once, on her side, Mass ran around to look for the stick. And he found it resting up against a nearby Box Elder tree, the stick propped up between the ground and the tree trunk at an angle. The Mastiff grabbed it up and ran back to his mistress. The St. Bernard, though, was thinking of plans for the cause of the King of the Jews. “Thank you, Mass,” said the mistress, taking the stick out of his mouth. “This may not be the very stick, or it might be. But this will do for my needs. No believer is going to ruin another of my sand dunes.” She then got to the edge of the sand dunes close to where the message read, “Milady, it is written,…” And she leaned her body over with the stick in her hand to scratch those four words out. But she could not reach. She then paused to first look upon the sand, then to look upon her sneakers, then out upon the sand again. And she said in confidance to Cask, forgetting the stands that he had made for Christ, “If Mass can do it, so can I.” And she stepped out with her socks and sneakers out onto the actual sand of this dune. She was now close enough with her stick to scratch out her name from the Bible verse that followed. Lo, something clamped down upon her stick in her hand and did tear away this stick out of her grasp. It happened so fast that a fear of God Himself came alive in her woman’s heart. God had rebuked her with supernatural power. Standing in the sand dune, Milady DeMornay looked around, and she saw
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Cask standing upon the field of early October with her stick in his jaws. “Oh, it was You, Cask,” she said with relief. But right after this good feeling that God had not taken this stick from her, she grabbed on to bad feelings toward her own dog who was taking sides with Jesus against her. She said, “Cask, you are a perverse rebellious dog!” All of a sudden a force equal to Cask crashed into him. It was the great force of Mass. And these two dogs, of the breeds that consist of the two biggest types of dogs in the world. wrestled each other in a fierce skirmish for domination of the stick that would scratch out this second Bible verse in its second sand dune about the King of the Jews. In the end, the Mastiff won. But the prize—this stick—was all broken up into tiny useless pieces. Now Milady could not scratch out this Scripture with her stick. She looked upon her feet again.. No. She would not use her feet to take away this Word of God, Yet. She looked upon her hands again. No. She would not use her hands to take away God’s Word. Yet. Though she were an enemy of Jesus, she still had fear over the Maker of this sand dune. And she felt the need to get out of this sand dune right now. And she ran out of it real fast, stopped and looked back, and lost the temerity to step back in for now. Cask, unsure about his mistress now, came back to her and rebuked her in the Lord with a look of shame of her. He was okay after the tussle. Mass came back to her with a look of clever guile. He was okay from the fight, also. But in his eyes was unfinished business. In blind rage, Milady grabbed her purse, took out her little red Bible, and threw it hard down into this second sand dune. And she said, “Let’s get out of here!” And the family of three marched back to the house a little walk away.
The next day, Miss DeMornay got up with her two big dogs, and she said in war against God, “Boys, let’s go to the sand dunes and see if there is another one like our first two; and let us take it off of the face of the Earth.” If the third sand dune had been ruined by a third Bible verse about the King of the Jews, there would be wrath to pay. “Let us go and wreck!” said Milady. Behold, Cask shook his big head, “Nay, my mistress.” But Mass shook his big head in an, “Aye, O Mistress.” And the three at once began their walk not for a good time with the sand dunes, but for a bad time with the sand dunes
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this time around.
They arrived there not long later. Sure enough there was writing in the third sand dune now. And Milady looked down and read it out loud for herself and her dog family: “It is written, ‘And a superscription also was written over him in letters of Greek, and Latin, and Hebrew, THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS.’ Luke 23:38. In Christ, Flanders.”
“Flanders!” yelled the offended reader. “Who is this Flanders?”
Well, now she knew the name of this offender. He must be one of those Christians out there.
She looked out beyond this sand dune in search of this outspoken man of God. She saw no one. She saw no car. She saw no house. She saw no driveway. She understood logically that probably his driveway did not come from her little road back there, but rather from a little road of his across the other side of this big field up ahead. Likewise his house and his car would be over there on beyond by this little road she knew not yet. So vast was Wisconsin’s rural space.
The first and second and third sand dunes all had Scripture verses written therein. At least the fourth one was not written therein yet. “Cask, Mass, there is only one good one left for us to enjoy,” said Milady.
A woman could see an angel in the good face of Cask as he gazed upon this third Scripture. And a woman could see a demon in the evil face of Mass as he looked down upon this Word of God.
And Milady’s face as well. But Milady did not know. Sinners are blind only to their own wickedness.
“Well, shall we, boys?” asked Miss DeMornay.
In Mass’s eyes were the thoughts, “Let us trash this third sand dune, Mistress.”
Yet in Cask’s eyes were the thoughts, “Doing this to this sand dune is like doing this to Jesus.”
“I don’t care, Cask,” said his mistress. “Do not keep me from what I need to do right now.”
Just then she saw a little red Book lying in a place in this sand dune some little way away from the Bible verse about the King of the Jews. It was her Gideon King James Bible New Testament.
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She snarled most ungodly upon seeing it. “What is that doing here in this third sand dune? I had left it in the second sand dune. Somebody moved it.”
Then she said, “Go get it, Cask.”
Cask would not. He knew that his mistress meant no good for that little red Bible from the tone of her voice..
She then said, “Go get it, Mass.” Mass shared her antipathy for this little holy Book. And he went and got it. This Mastiff stepped completely into this sand dune with all four paws, grabbed up this Gideon Bible in his teeth, and stepped out of the sand dune with all four paws. And the irate mistress took it and stuffed it into her purse, happy to not see it anymore, but unhappy for having it in her purse. Then she murmured, “A girl can’t get away from the Word of God.” The third Bible verse remained intact after Mass’s trespass. His feet missed the Scripture in his quest to get the little pocket Bible in this sand dune.
Then Milady said, “Go and destroy this Luke 23:38 as it is called, Cask.”
In a stand for the King of the Jews, Cask sat down and did not proceed into this sand dune.
“Cask, you have never disobeyed your mistress like this before,” exclaimed the woman, blinded by her wrath.
In a silent—but firm–reproof, the St. Bernard on Christ’s side turned away his face from his mistress and would not look upon her now. Those who stand for God in contending against those who stand against God can become angry, too.
Then Milady DeMornay said, “Mass, you go and do it now. Go and take away from this sand dune this so-called Luke 23:38. And do so at once.”
Perhaps Milady was too afraid to do it herself. So she had thought to make her dog to do it instead. The one refused her. The other one would not refuse her.
And the Mastiff pounced upon this third sand dune and thought to scratch out this Word of God
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therefrom. Lo, the St. Bernard now first came into a sand dune in this holy refuge of four sand dunes.
And he assaulted the Mastiff. The Mastiff was full of the fury of the Devil. The St. Bernard had the power of God. And Cask drove out Mass from this sand dune. But the fight did not cease. It continued on out upon the field grass. And this time it was not just a wrestling. It was a battle between good and evil. And its combatants were larger than Timber wolves.
In shock Milady grabbed her hair and pulled. This had never happened before. Something bad would come of this. In dismay the dogs’ mistress remembered the big fight between the sled dogs Buck and Spitz in the classic novel “The Call of the Wild.” One of those dogs died. As she looked upon her Cask and her Mass, Milady feared the death of one of them. Maybe both of them! Her vengeance against God’s sand dune and God’s Word upon His sand dune had brought this to pass.
And she no longer cared about this King of the Jews verse and its dissolution. All that mattered now was Cask and Mass. Lo, Cask went down! Lo, Mass went down!
And, humbling herself before God, this King of the Jews, Milady fell down upon her knees in the midst of this sand dunes, and she prayed, “Jesus, help me!”
Behold, the fight stopped. Wounded and weary, the two giant dogs fell down upon their bellies and lay there, their heads hanging down, their lungs panting, and their forms cut and bleeding. From the sand dunes, the mistress could see her two best friends hurting there upon the field grass. She got back up, left the sand dunes, and approached them, and said, “I am sorry, I am wrong. I am bad.”
God had saved her from so great loss. And she thanked Him now, saying, “Thank You, Jesus for saving their lives. I believe Cask. I disbelieve Mass.” It was this King of the Jews Who had brought peace between her two dogs. And Cask remained steadfast to Him. And Mass now repented in Him. Truly Milady needed Him now. She looked upon this third sand dunes now. Praise the holy God that this Word of God was not taken away in the midst of so great tumult. In fear of the King of the Jews, Milady sought no more the taking away of the Word of God, not only of this third sand dune, but also
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of the first sand dune and of the second sand dune. With no further offense, the mistress and her two dogs left these sand dunes, two of them the walking wounded, and they came back home. And she then said to them, “I wonder if there will be any Words of God in the fourth and last sand dune tomorrow?”
The next day, Miss DeMornay got up with the same anticipation for the sand dunes that she had lost that first moment that she had seen that first Bible verse. This King of the Jews: She did not know Him as this writer in the sand knew Him. All she knew was that this One had broken up the fight between Cask and Mass right after she had prayed to Him for their two lives. This Jesus had to be God Himself. And He had to be just as much God as the Creator of sand dunes and pastoral fields. Maybe He was indeed the Maker Himself Whom she had adored upon first coming to these sand dunes. Seeking this Christ of Whom this writer had closed that third inscription in the sand, Milady said to her two big dogs, “Let us go and see if my fourth sand dune has a good verse from the Bible again for me–hopefully another one with ‘the King of the Jews’ in it once again.”
Cask gave a bark like unto a cannon fire. He was saying, “Yes! Yes!”
But Mass gave a growl like unto a tiger provoked. He said, “No! No!”
Cask wanted more about God. Mass wanted no more with God.
So, with this, the mistress said, “Then stay behind, if you choose, Mass.” And she said, “Let’s go see some Word of God in the fourth sand dune, Cask.”
And Milady and her St. Bernard walked to the four dunes off beyond. Sure enough, the Word of God glorified sand dune number four: Faithful and Godly Cask standing at her right side before the sand, Milady DeMornay read out loud its message for her: “Miss Milady Marguerite DeMornay, I do say unto you in much prayer, ‘It is duly written, “And Pilate wrote a title, and put it on the cross. And the writing was, JESUS OF NAZARETH THE KING OF THE JEWS.” John 19:19.’ In Christ the Saviour, Mr. Flanders Arckery Nickels, your neighbor across the field.”
This was to Milady, regarding her soul, a love ode from a secret admirer.
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She pondered this Flanders her countryside neighbor who knew her, but whom she knew not.
“He’s praying for me, Cask,” said Milady. “He cares about me.” Her most wise St. Bernard gave her a canine brown-eyed look and cocked his kingly head to the side at her. She understood what he was thinking, and she said, “And this King of the Jews cares even more about me than does even this Christian guy writing Scripture in the sand for me.” Cask gave forth a bark of affirmation that sounded like a Black Bear roaring.
A while of silent thoughts came among mistress and St. Bernard dog here in front of sand dune number four. Then Milady asked, “Do you think that he might be cute, Cask? That is, this Flanders Nickels?”
His eyes said to her, “He could be, Mistress.”
“You never saw him,” said Milady.
He shook his head with a gesture that said, “I never saw him indeed”
In daydream, Miss DeMornay went on to conjecture, “Maybe he is an angel. Maybe he is a messenger from Heaven. Maybe he is a man sent by God.”
His St. Bernard face told her, “Maybe he is a born-again Christian who preaches the Gospel.”
“Like a man of God who tells others about this Jesus,” said the mistress.
Cask turned to look back at the message in the sand. So, too, did Milady.
Then she spoke and said, “I am afraid of where I’ll go if I die today, Cask.”
He heard this and began to whine like a puppy alone for its first time.
“Don’t cry, Cask,” said his mistress. “I am beginning to find a new hope in my life that I never had before. There is much more to this King of the Jews than just this temporal life down here. I think that even Hell cannot beat this Jesus. I would think that Christ has a lot to do with Heaven.”
He stopped crying and buried his head in her hands. She petted him adoringly. He purred like a big cat. She said, “I heard it said, and I saw it written, that ‘Jesus saves.’”
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In worship, Milady began to stroll around here, looking upon all four sand dunes and admiring the Word of God upon them. In sureness of their inscriber, the woman seeking Christ took out her little Gideon Bible and one-by-one double-checked each of these four verses. Not wise in the Scriptures herself, she found the verses each after much work. And, sure enough, this good Christian man had God’s Word down there just exactly as they were in here. He was right about Jesus. She knew that now in good and wise first faith. She then put the pocket New Testament back into her purse and looked up to Heaven, and asked, “O Christ Jesus, what do I need to do to be saved?” She found no answer. But she trusted God now. He would tell her, and He would do it in His time and in His way. The Lord was a Good God. She would find all she needed to know about this Christ Jesus the King of the Jews in order to get saved like this Flanders. All she needed to do was to wait upon Him for His good work upon her eternal soul. With all of this happening at this fourth sand dune, Milady thanked God for the peace of the sand dunes that had come upon her this time around with her heart open and her eyes open to the Saviour, the King of the Jews. Then it was time to go back home. Surely she would find a Saviour for her own. And mistress and St. Bernard strolled back to the house.
But when they got there, they saw not Mass the Mastiff there waiting for her. The mistress searched the house and all the yellow buildings and all of the five acres. But she did not find him.
And she worried for big Mass. Something must have happened to him.
But nothing had happened to him. Instead he was happening to something. Full of devil’s guile, this Mass had, like a sneak, secretly stole away to the four sand dunes without his mistress, himself making very sure not to be seen by her. And now alone with the four sand dunes and their four examples of God’s Word thereupon, the demon-possessed dog proceeded to take away God’s Word.
With his big fore paws and with his big hind paws, wicked Mass went on a frenzy and trampled and stamped and scratched across Matthew 27:37, Mark 15:26, Luke 23:38, John 19:19. He rolled over about all of this on his back. He pushed sand across it with his nose. He passed across these with his
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side in sweeps. He even wagged his tail across these Scriptures. And, when he was almost all done, he leaned down his big muzzle and bit into the last symbol of each Word of God yet intact, one-by-one, and sand dune by sand dune–one, two, three, four–and spat it back out upon God’s holy sand dunes. Now Satan’s work was done. And Mass stood there to gloat upon his thorough and complete work. And he was glad. Having done this against the cause of Christ, he then marched proudly back to the house. The moment he came back home his mistress welcomed him with open arms, saying to him in her sweet tone. “Where have you been, big Mass? I was worried about you so. It’s good to have you back. Promise me that you’ll never run off into the countrysides again. You big naughty boy.” And she threw her arms around his big shoulders and kissed him upon his side of his muzzle in adulation and cooed like a dove in song of affection for him. She did not know. Cask kind of knew something. But the King of the Jews knew all.
The next day, very early before the dogs got up, and praying unto the Lord Jesus, Milady skipped alone on the way to the four sand dunes. Surely this cute guy Flanders would be there for her and explain these four verses unto her and somehow get her to become born again. She had heard Mom say much to her in her younger years, “God works in mysterious ways.” How thankful she was now that Mom and Dad had cared enough for her to give her this little red pocket Bible. She was so excited about seeing these four sand dunes in their enhanced states that she came here alone without waking the big dogs. And she made Godspeed to this demesne of sand dunes.
Woe! There was no more Scripture! The Bible verses had been scratched out of their sand dunes consummately. The Word of God was all gone. This Godly haven was now just like the rest of this land on this other side of the road. “My beloved sand dunes!” cried out Milady in malaise, and she fell upon the sand within the first sand dune and wept. Now she could never get saved. Jesus looked down from Heaven and saw a soul that was searching for His eternal truth. He saw her crying. He had compassion upon her. He would help.
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Satan also saw Milady. He did not want to lose her soul to God. He hated her. He would hinder.
Behold, along came bounding up to her the dubious Mass. He stopped before her. And he glared at her, and he bewrayed no manner of friendship with his mistress. And she knew now. His mistress stood up. She paused. She spoke: “You did it. Didn’t you, Mass? You came here and filled all the Words of God with sand. Didn’t you? You took away my dreams and my hopes for salvation. Didn’t you?”
Lo, drool of madness began foaming in his mouth. The Mastiff was rabid, made so by the Devil. And Mass stood there to defy her. She thought now that it were wise for her to leave what was once these holy sand dunes. It was not safe anymore being with Mass. Milady stepped to his right to pass him by and to walk back home. He stepped to his right and stood in her way. Milady then stepped to his left in order to get home safe and sound. He stepped to his left and stood in her way. Mass would not let his mistress leave. And his eyes turned red like a demon’s eyes. Milady was scared for her life. And she prayed for God’s mercy, saying, “I don’t want to die right now, Lord Jesus. I’m not a Christian yet.”
And God sent mighty strong Cask bounding up to her to rescue his mistress in distress. In a wave of relief, Milady called out in dire gratefulness, “O Cask, my knight in shining armor!” The St. Bernard stopped just before he got there, saw Mass’s eyes of red, and looked up at the skies from where he stood. Milady surmised that he was seeking the Lord’s will. Then Cask nodded his head toward God Above and suddenly scampered away past her and deeper out into this field and lost in the trees. Was her brave Cask fleeing her? She prayed in desperation, “Okay, Jesus. Thy will be done. If I must die, I will die.” And she courageously sat down in the sand dune and waited for what would come from all of this. Murder was in her Mastiff’s eyes toward her for his first time. Yet he did not hunt her down where she was sitting. She expected this big dog now with the red eyes to stalk her and slay her. Yet
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he did not advance. In fact he sat down upon the field grass right outside of this first sand dune and glared at her. He believed that his foe the St. Bernard had fled for his life. He believed that his mistress’s life was his for the taking. He believed that he had for as long as he wished. But what Mass believed was not what Cask knew as truth. As for Milady DeMornay, she could see what Mass was waiting for. He was his taking this time now to gloat over his mistress as she sat there, trembling and scared. But the mistress found courage. What was Cask doing? Milady and Mass did not have long to wait till they found out. Along came her ever-faithful St. Bernard, carrying a little man on his back quite smaller than Milady. Cask stopped in front of her, put himself between Mass and his mistress, and leaned down for the little man to dismount. He was smaller even than a jockey. He looked like a tall midget. But his countenance was strong in the Lord. And he called out to her, “Milady, allow me to introduce myself. I am Flanders, your neighbor from afar. I am at your service, pretty lady.” And he bowed.
Then savage Mass, full of demon and rabies and madness, snarled at him, quite about to pounce upon this real little man. But this real little man was not afraid of this real big dog. Calm in Christ, this man of God called out to Mass, saying to him, “In the name of Jesus Christ the King of the Jews, I command you, O demon, to come out of this Mastiff dog.” At once Mass was thrown to the ground by his demon within. And he lay there, helpless. He looked dead. He was alive. He looked not well. He was soon to be well. He was once a bully. Now he was never to be a bully again. And he recovered. He opened his eyes, looked up at his mistress, and groaned in affection for her. His eyes were no longer red. His muzzle was no longer frothing up with saliva. His rabies was gone now. And this Mastiff was truly exorcised of his demon. And he crawled toward his mistress in abject apology for all the wrongs that he had done to her. Mass was all right now. And Milady no longer feared for herself. And she knew that her loyal Cask had run off in God’s will to go and fetch this writer of the sand dunes Scripture and to bring him back here to his mistress with Godspeed. And she said, “Thank you, Cask.
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And thank you, kind sir.”
He looked down upon his desecrated sand dunes, and he said, “Nasty Devil’s work at that, Miss DeMornay. But I can fix it back up again as it was.”
“I’d like that,” she said.
“First we need to rescue your soul from the Devil, Milady,” he said.
“I need to become a born-again believer,” Miss DeMornay confessed.
He put his hand to his big jacket pocket. “Hm,” he said. “I seem to have lost my Bible on the fast ride. Do you see it, boy?” he asked Cask. The St. Bernard looked around these sand dunes, but did not find it. “I always have my Bible with me when I share the plan of salvation. I use only the King James Bible.” said Flanders Nickels. Nevertheless he simply went on to say, “Well the Lord provides, Miss DeMornay.”
“Could we use my Bible, Flanders?” asked Milady. “It’s in my purse here.”
“Is it an Authorized King James Version, Milady?” asked Flanders.
She pulled it out of her purse and checked. “It is,” she said.
“That one will do just fine for us,” he said. And she proffered her King James New Testament to this eccentric soul-winner, and he took it and said, “Thank you, Milady.”
And he taught this lost and seeking woman Milady the doctrine of this King of the Jews: “My lady, this King of the Jews is the Lord Jesus Christ the Saviour of the world and the Creator of all that is made and the Son of God. Jesus’s people the Jews misunderstood His title on the cross which referred to their Messiah as the King of the Jews. They believed that He had come as their Saviour from the oppressive rule of the Roman Empire, that He would be their military Deliverer that would conquer Rome, and that He would be their General that would set them free and make them a world power. But no. Instead Jesus had come indeed to rescue fallen mankind from their sins—both Jews and Gentiles alike. He had come to shed His blood for us sinners. He had come to die for us sinners.
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He had come to rise again from the dead for us sinners. That, good Milady DeMornay, is the Gospel. The Gospel is the death and burial and resurrection of Christ the Lord. He died for you and me by letting wicked men drive spikes through his hands and his feet upon a cruel cross of wood. He endured this cross of Calvary so that mankind need not go to Hell when they die. ‘Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’ John 15:13. Wicked governor Pilate wrote that sign whose words you have seen in my sand dunes and put it upon Jesus’s cross above His head. Hence the King of the Jews.” Throughout this good preaching, Flanders Nickels paused to show Milady DeMornay Scripture from her Gideon pocket Bible that proved what he was telling her. And she believed him, and she believed God’s Word. He went on to preach, “This cross upon which the King of the Jews hung, the sign over his head, is called, ‘the cross of Calvary,’ ‘the cross of Golgotha,’ ‘the cross of crucifixion,’ ‘the cross of suffering,’ ‘the cross of shame.’ It is most well known as the title of that great hymn is called, ‘The Old Rugged Cross.’ Sometimes we Christians call it ‘the tree.’ And Milady believed in the death of Jesus as her Redeemer and Deliverer and Propitiation.
Then Flanders continued on in his preaching and showing her Bible verses from her little red Bible, telling her about Easter: “This King of the Jews did not stay dead, though. As you heard me tell you about His resurrection, you know that He lives today. It happened on the third day. That is the third day after His death. Hence the titles of my own favorite two Easter hymns—’Christ Arose!’ and ‘Christ the Lord is Risen Today.’ Easter is all about the greatest act of history ever known since the Creation of all that is. And yet how no one will read about this resurrection of our Good Lord in any of this world’s history books of any grade level. But we Christians know it, and we believe it, and we live it. What happened in that first Easter when Christ rose from the grave? It was first evidenced when they came to His cave which was His tomb, and, behold, His body was not there. Then it was evidenced when He showed His living and real and enhanced physical Self to His Apostles and to Mary and to others. Further, it was evidenced when He showed His Self to over five hundred saved men at
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once. He walked His Earth as the Resurrected God for forty days. Then, on the fortieth day, He ascended back up to Heaven as His Apostles looked on. And two angels said unto the Disciples as this took place, ‘Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into Heaven? This same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven.’” And Milady DeMornay now believed in the Easter miracle—the resurrection of this King of the Jews.
Then Flanders asked her, “Shall we have a word of prayer and get you saved, Milady?”
“Praying a prayer will save my lost soul, Flanders?” she asked.
“Yes. It is called ‘the sinners’ prayer,’ Milady,” he told her.
“Let me pray this sinner’s prayer,” she said.
And he led her through this prayer line by line: “Dear God: What a sinner that I have been all of my life. I should go to Hell. That’s where I belong. I want to go to Heaven. That’s where I don’t belong. I am sorry for all of the bad things that I have done. And I want to change all of that. I ask You to look down and forgive me. I confess that the King of the Jews shed His blood and died for me on the cross. I confess, also, that this same King of the Jews rose again from the grave on the third day. I ask You now to become my personal Saviour, O Jesus, and give me eternal life with You in the glories and joys and peace of Heaven. Verily Jesus saves. In Christ’s name I pray. Amen.”
Thus did Miss Milady Marguerite DeMornay become a born-again believer.
It was the next day, and the four were fellowshipping around the four sand dunes of Flanders in his yard—Milady and Flanders and Cask and Mass. The two Christians were at work with drawing sticks and Bibles. They were drawing upon the sand dunes the original Bible verses that had been erased by the Devil. And man and woman were happy together as boyfriend-and-girlfriend-in-the-Lord. And accord came between Cask and Mass. And God was glorified. And, after a while, Milady and her boyfriend were done. And the four little sand dunes in the field were once again as they had been.
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“There. Done,” said Flanders.
“They’re beautiful now all over again,” said Milady.
“Like my pretty girlfriend,” he said.
“And handsome, like my cute guy,” she said in affection.
“I fell for you even from that first look,” he said to her.
“When I was by that fourth sand dune and you came riding my St. Bernard, Flanders?” she asked.
He answered, “No. Rather when you were by my four sand dunes before they had my Scriptures written on them when you were with Cask and Mass.”
Musing, she asked, “You saw me on my first day here. But I did not see you.”
“I just happened to be climbing a tree that day. It was the tree closest to the sand dunes. You even picked up my writing stick that was leaning against the very tree that I was in a few days later. You and your big dogs never saw me up there,” he said.
“You were hiding in a tree when you first saw me and fell for me,” said Milady, flattered and curious.
“I did not know that you would be there that first day. I just happened to be enjoying my big yard, and I just happened to be up in that tree, and along came you and your two dogs,” he said.
“And a man in a tree began to carry a torch for his neighbor girl not near by,” she said in flirt.
“I was hoping that you come back to my sand dunes. I did not know if you knew the Saviour or not. But I had to tell you about Him. And I had to do it in a novel way,” he said.
“How come you were so sneaky?” she asked.
“I am afraid of big dogs,” he said. “I like big dogs, but I got bit by big dogs more than once.”
He then said, “Forgive me my lack of faith in the God Who protects His believers, Milady.”
“You saw me that first time with my St. Bernard and my Mastiff, decided that I was in need of
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the Saviour, and drew a verse about Jesus in the first sand dune for me to read for myself and to start thinking about Him.” she said.
“Uh huh,” he said. “And sure enough you came back the next day, and you read that first verse I wrote in that first sand dune. I saw you there from up in the tree.”
“And I came back again each of the next three days,” she said. “And I read the second verse in the second sand dune, and I read the third verse in the third sand dune, and I read the fourth verse in the fourth sand dune.”
“And then I was done with my King of the Jews verses of the Bible in the sand, Milady,” he said. “I planned on next coming personally to you and boldly share the Gospel of salvation with you.”
“Did you see me from up there all those days?” she asked.
“Yep,” he said. “All the days—from before the first verse unto after the fourth verse, Milady.”
“But you weren’t there in the tree on that last day,” she said. “You came riding Cask to me from your place that day, Flanders.”
“I know,” he said. “That morning before it was light out, I walked to the sand dunes to admire my work in the sand. Woe! An enemy had swiped it all up with sand. My Words of God were all buried. The Devil had scratched out God’s Word from my sand dunes. I saw all of this under the light of a full moon.”
“Were you sad?” she asked.
“I was angry,” he said. “But I shared my anger at whoever did this with God in prayer. And He told me to not go to the tree this time, but rather to go back home and wait for Him to tell me what to do next. And I obeyed God.”
“That must have been yesterday, the day I discovered you, Flanders,” said Milady. “I was in danger, and you came, riding Cask.
“I was on my knees, at home, praying for you. It was getting light then in the sky. And a big
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dog came running up to me. This was your St. Bernard. God told me, ‘Fear not, My son. He is good.’ And your Cask offered me his back. And I knew where God needed me to go. And on the ride there, I asked God, “What about this other big dog? What about the Mastiff Mass?” And God said to me, ‘Fear not, My son. He is evil.’ And now we four all know what happened after that, Milady.”
“My secret admirer, from which tree here by the sand dunes did you look upon me all of these days past?”
“It’s this one over here,” he said, And he led her to a box elder tree, towering and full and green.
“I can see why I never saw you up there in this tree, Flanders,” said Milady. “So many branches and so many leaves.”
“It is beginning to turn color now, Milady,” he said.
“I think that I see some yellow in there now,” she said.
“Soon the leaves will start to fall,” he said.
“Fall is a good season to find a boyfriend,” she said.
“And a good season to find a girlfriend,” he said.
“And a good season for a man to find a couple of big dog friends, too, Flanders?” asked Milady.
“And a good season for a couple of big dogs to find a man friend,” said Flanders Nickels.
“Let’s go climb the tree, Boyfriend,” said Milady.
“Let us go and do that, Girl,” he said. “Then, after that, we can go and play ‘fetch’ together with Cask and Mass.”
“Yes! Yes!” said Milady DeMornay.
“And then we can worship together in fellowship,” he said.
“Amen, cute Flanders!” she exclaimed in great zeal of the Holy Spirit. “Amen to that!”
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