Peter went off rather sullenly, and Felix, also sullenly, sat down and began to nurse his nose.  He turned his back on Cecily.

Cecily “caught it” after Uncle Alec had gone.  Dan called her a tell-tale and a baby, and sneered at her until Cecily began to cry.

“I couldn’t stand by and watch Felix and Peter pound each other all to pieces,” she sobbed.  “They’ve been such friends, and it was dreadful to see them fighting.”

“Uncle Roger would have let them fight it out,” said the Story Girl discontentedly.  “Uncle Roger believes in boys fighting.  He says it’s as harmless a way as any of working off their original sin.  Peter and Felix wouldn’t have been any worse friends after it.  They’d have been better friends because the praying question would have been settled.  And now it can’t be—­unless Felicity can coax Peter to give up praying against Felix.”

For once in her life the Story Girl was not as tactful as her wont.  Or—­is it possible that she said it out of malice prepense?  At all events, Felicity resented the imputation that she had more influence with Peter than any one else.

“I don’t meddle with hired boys’ prayers,” she said haughtily.

“It was all nonsense fighting about such prayers, anyhow,” said Dan, who probably thought that since all chance of a fight was over, he might as well avow his real sentiments as to its folly.  “Just as much nonsense as praying about the bitter apples in the first place.”

“Oh, Dan, don’t you believe there is some good in praying?” said Cecily reproachfully.

“Yes, I believe there’s some good in some kinds of praying, but not in that kind,” said Dan sturdily.  “I don’t believe God cares whether anybody can eat an apple without making a face or not.”

“I don’t believe it’s right to talk of God as if you were well acquainted with Him,” said Felicity, who felt that it was a good chance to snub Dan.

“There’s something wrong somewhere,” said Cecily perplexedly.  “We ought to pray for what we want, of that I’m sure—­and Peter wanted to be the only one who could pass the Ordeal.  It seems as if he must be right—­and yet it doesn’t seem so.  I wish I could understand it.”

“Peter’s prayer was wrong because it was a selfish prayer, I guess,” said the Story Girl thoughtfully.  “Felix’s prayer was all right, because it wouldn’t have hurt any one else; but it was selfish of Peter to want to be the only one.  We mustn’t pray selfish prayers.”

“Oh, I see through it now,” said Cecily joyfully.

“Yes, but,” said Dan triumphantly, “if you believe God answers prayers about particular things, it was Peter’s prayer He answered.  What do you make of that?”

“Oh!” the Story Girl shook her head impatiently.  “There’s no use trying to make such things out.  We only get more mixed up all the time.  Let’s leave it alone and I’ll tell you a story.  Aunt Olivia had a letter today from a friend in Nova Scotia, who lives in Shubenacadie.  When I said I thought it a funny name, she told me to go and look in her scrap book, and I would find a story about the origin of the name.  And I did.  Don’t you want to hear it?”