“I don’t believe it’s the Judgment Day,” said Felix, “and I never have believed it.  But oh, I wish that clock would strike two.”

“Can’t you tell us a story to pass the time?” I entreated the Story Girl.

She shook her head.

“No, it would be no use to try.  But if this isn’t the Judgment Day I’ll have a great one to tell of us being so scared.”

Pat presently came galloping up the orchard, carrying in his mouth a big field mouse, which, sitting down before us, he proceeded to devour, body and bones, afterwards licking his chops with great satisfaction.

“It can’t be the Judgment Day,” said Sara Ray, brightening up.  “Paddy would never be eating mice if it was.”

“If that clock doesn’t soon strike two I shall go out of my seven senses,” declared Cecily with unusual vehemence.

“Time always seems long when you’re waiting,” said the Story Girl.  “But it does seem as if we had been here more than an hour.”

“Maybe the clock struck and we didn’t hear it,” suggested Dan.  “Somebody’d better go and see.”

“I’ll go,” said Cecily.  “I suppose, even if anything happens, I’ll have time to get back to you.”

We watched her white-clad figure pass through the gate and enter the front door.  A few minutes passed—­or a few years—­we could not have told which.  Then Cecily came running at full speed back to us.  But when she reached us she trembled so much that at first she could not speak.

“What is it?  Is it past two?” implored the Story Girl.

“It’s—­it’s four,” said Cecily with a gasp.  “The old clock isn’t going.  Mother forgot to wind it up last night and it stopped.  But it’s four by the kitchen clock—­so it isn’t the Judgment Day—­and tea is ready—­and mother says to come in.”

We looked at each other, realizing what our dread had been, now that it was lifted.  It was not the Judgment Day.  The world and life were still before us, with all their potent lure of years unknown.

“I’ll never believe anything I read in the papers again,” said Dan, rushing to the opposite extreme.

“I told you the Bible was more to be depended on than the newspapers,” said Cecily triumphantly.

Sara Ray and Peter and the Story Girl went home, and we went in to tea with royal appetites.  Afterwards, as we dressed for Sunday School upstairs, our spirits carried us away to such an extent that Aunt Janet had to come twice to the foot of the stairs and inquire severely, “Children, have you forgotten what day this is?”

“Isn’t it nice that we’re going to live a spell longer in this nice world?” said Felix, as we walked down the hill.

“Yes, and Felicity and the Story Girl are speaking again,” said Cecily happily.

“And Felicity DID speak first,” I said.

“Yes, but it took the Judgment Day to make her.  I wish,” added Cecily with a sigh, “that I hadn’t been in quite such a hurry giving away my forget-me-not jug.”