he talked to me so nice.  I’ve never said a single swear word since, or told a lie.  And I’d like to see him happy and comfortable, with his buttons on and his meals decent, and you young ones licked into shape, and that old cat of a Martha put in her proper place.  The way she looked at the eggs I brought her to-night.  ‘I hope they’re fresh,’ says she.  I just wished they was rotten.  But you just mind that she gives you all one for breakfast, including your pa.  Make a fuss if she doesn’t.  That was what they was sent up for—­but I don’t trust old Martha.  She’s quite capable of feeding ’em to her cat.”

Mary’s tongue being temporarily tired, a brief silence fell over the graveyard.  The manse children did not feel like talking.  They were digesting the new and not altogether palatable ideas Mary had suggested to them.  Jerry and Carl were somewhat startled.  But, after all, what did it matter?  And it wasn’t likely there was a word of truth in it.  Faith, on the whole, was pleased.  Only Una was seriously upset.  She felt that she would like to get away and cry.

“Will there be any stars in my crown?” sang the Methodist choir, beginning to practise in the Methodist church.

“I want just three,” said Mary, whose theological knowledge had increased notably since her residence with Mrs. Elliott.  “Just three—­setting up on my head, like a corownet, a big one in the middle and a small one each side.”

“Are there different sizes in souls?” asked Carl.

“Of course.  Why, little babies must have smaller ones than big men.  Well, it’s getting dark and I must scoot home.  Mrs. Elliott doesn’t like me to be out after dark.  Laws, when I lived with Mrs. Wiley the dark was just the same as the daylight to me.  I didn’t mind it no more’n a gray cat.  Them days seem a hundred years ago.  Now, you mind what I’ve said and try to behave yourselves, for you pa’s sake.  I’ll always back you up and defend you—­you can be dead sure of that.  Mrs. Elliott says she never saw the like of me for sticking up for my friends.  I was real sassy to Mrs. Alec Davis about you and Mrs. Elliott combed me down for it afterwards.  The fair Cornelia has a tongue of her own and no mistake.  But she was pleased underneath for all, ’cause she hates old Kitty Alec and she’s real fond of you. I can see through folks.”

Mary sailed off, excellently well pleased with herself, leaving a rather depressed little group behind her.

“Mary Vance always says something that makes us feel bad when she comes up,” said Una resentfully.

“I wish we’d left her to starve in the old barn,” said Jerry vindictively.

“Oh, that’s wicked, Jerry,” rebuked Una.

“May as well have the game as the name,” retorted unrepentant Jerry.  “If people say we’re so bad let’s be bad.”

“But not if it hurts father,” pleaded Faith.