“You ask him,” said Felicity, nudging the Story Girl.

“Uncle Roger,” said the Story Girl, the golden notes of her voice threaded with fear and appeal. “the Enterprise says that to-morrow is the Judgment Day?  IS it?  Do YOU think it is?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Uncle Roger gravely.  “The Enterprise is always very careful to print only reliable news.”

“But mother doesn’t believe it,” cried Felicity.

Uncle Roger shook his head.

“That is just the trouble,” he said.  “People won’t believe it till it’s too late.  I’m going straight to Markdale to pay a man there some money I owe him, and after dinner I’m going to Summerside to buy me a new suit.  My old one is too shabby for the Judgment Day.”

He got into his buggy and drove away, leaving eight distracted mortals behind him.

“Well, I suppose that settles it,” said Peter, in despairing tone.

“Is there anything we can do to PREPARE?” asked Cecily.

“I wish I had a white dress like you girls,” sobbed Sara Ray.  “But I haven’t, and it’s too late to get one.  Oh, I wish I had minded what ma said better.  I wouldn’t have disobeyed her so often if I’d thought the Judgment Day was so near.  When I go home I’m going to tell her about going to the magic lantern show.”

“I’m not sure that Uncle Roger meant what he said,” remarked the Story Girl.  “I couldn’t get a look into his eyes.  If he was trying to hoax us there would have been a twinkle in them.  He can never help that.  You know he would think it a great joke to frighten us like this.  It’s really dreadful to have no grown-ups you can depend on.”

“We could depend on father if he was here,” said Dan stoutly.  “HE’D tell us the truth.”

“He would tell us what he THOUGHT was true, Dan, but he couldn’t KNOW.  He’s not such a well-educated man as the editor of the Enterprise.  No, there’s nothing to do but wait and see.”

“Let us go into the house and read just what the Bible does say about it,” suggested Cecily.

We crept in carefully, lest we disturb Aunt Olivia, and Cecily found and read the significant portion of Holy Writ.  There was little comfort for us in that vivid and terrible picture.

“Well,” said the Story Girl finally.  “I must go and get the potatoes ready.  I suppose they must be boiled even if it is the Judgment Day to-morrow.  But I don’t believe it is.”

“And I’ve got to go and stump elderberries,” said Peter.  “I don’t see how I can do it—­go away back there alone.  I’ll feel scared to death the whole time.”

“Tell Uncle Roger that, and say if to-morrow is the end of the world that there is no good in stumping any more fields,” I suggested.

“Yes, and if he lets you off then we’ll know he was in earnest,” chimed in Cecily.  “But if he still says you must go that’ll be a sign he doesn’t believe it.”