“‘You should be resigned to the will of Providence.’

“‘Providence had nothing to do with it,’ said old Mr. Scott.  ‘’Twas the McCloskeys and the devil.’”

“You shouldn’t speak of the—­the—­devil,” said Felicity, rather shocked.

“Well, that’s just what Mr. Scott said.”

“Oh, it’s all right for a minister to speak of him.  But it isn’t nice for little girls.  If you have to speak of—­of—­him—­you might say the Old Scratch.  That is what mother calls him.”

“‘’Twas the McCloskeys and the Old Scratch,’” said the Story Girl reflectively, as if she were trying to see which version was the more effective.  “It wouldn’t do,” she decided.

“I don’t think it’s any harm to mention the—­the—­that person, when you’re telling a story,” said Cecily.  “It’s only in plain talking it doesn’t do.  It sounds too much like swearing then.”

“I know another story about Mr. Scott,” said the Story Girl.  “Not long after he was married his wife wasn’t quite ready for church one morning when it was time to go.  So, just to teach her a lesson, he drove off alone, and left her to walk all the way—­it was nearly two miles—­in the heat and dust.  She took it very quietly.  It’s the best way, I guess, when you’re married to a man like old Mr. Scott.  But just a few Sundays after wasn’t he late himself!  I suppose Mrs. Scott thought that what was sauce for the goose was sauce for the gander, for she slipped out and drove off to church as he had done.  Old Mr. Scott finally arrived at the church, pretty hot and dusty, and in none too good a temper.  He went into the pulpit, leaned over it and looked at his wife, sitting calmly in her pew at the side.

“‘It was cleverly done,’ he said, right out loud, ’but DINNA try it again!’”

In the midst of our laughter Pat came down the Walk, his stately tail waving over the grasses.  He proved to be the precursor of Dan, clothed and in his right mind.

“Do you think you should have got up, Dan?” said Cecily anxiously.

“I had to,” said Dan.  “The window was open, and it was more’n I could stand to hear you fellows laughing down here and me missing it all.  ’Sides, I’m all right again.  I feel fine.”

“I guess this will be a lesson to you, Dan King,” said Felicity, in her most maddening tone.  “I guess you won’t forget it in a hurry.  You won’t go eating the bad berries another time when you’re told not to.”

Dan had picked out a soft spot in the grass for himself, and was in the act of sitting down, when Felicity’s tactful speech arrested him midway.  He straightened up and turned a wrathful face on his provoking sister.  Then, red with indignation, but without a word, he stalked up the walk.

“Now he’s gone off mad,” said Cecily reproachfully.  “Oh, Felicity, why couldn’t you have held your tongue?”

“Why, what did I say to make him mad?” asked Felicity in honest perplexity.