“Now, Betty,” he said, “you must listen properly and not talk, because it’s a proper lesson, just like mother gives us when visitors aren’t here.”  A pause, then Hugh said in a very solemn voice, “You know, darling, Jesus would have been born in the manger, but the dog in the manger wouldn’t let him!”

I stole out of the room.

“You don’t disturb us, Aunt Woggles,” called out Hugh; “you truthfully don’t.”

Hugh had evidently told all he knew, for in a few minutes he came out of the drawing-room and joined us in the hall.  “We’ve done!” he exclaimed; “we’ve had our lesson all the same.”

“I am sorry, Hugh,” said Diana.

He slipped his hand in hers as a sign of forgiveness, and by way of making matters quite right, I said, “You know, Hugh, mothers must look after their guests.  Their children are always with them, but friends only occasionally.”

Why do aunts interfere?  Retribution speedily follows.

“Visitors are mostly always here,” said Hugh plaintively.  “When you have children of your own, Aunt Woggles, then —­”

“A fox, a fox, Hugh!” cried some one.

He rushed to the window.

“That’s two foxes today that weren’t there when I looked,” said Hugh; “I shan’t look next time.”

This was a desperate state of affairs; an attack might come at any time, and we should have exhausted our ammunition.

“The best thing,” said Diana, “is for those who are going to church to get ready.”

Betty and Hugh were of course going; Sara wanted to, but those in authority deemed it wiser that she should wait till she was older.  This offended her very much, as did any reference to her age.  But the decision was a wise one:  she prayed too fervently, she sang too lustily, and she talked too audibly, to admit of reverent worship on the part of the younger members of the congregation, and of the older ones, too, I am afraid.

One memorable Sunday she did go to church, as a great treat; and when the hymn — “Peace, perfect peace” was given out, a beatific smile illumined her face, and with her hymn-book upside-down she was preparing to sing, when Diana said, —­ whispered rather —­ You don’t know this, darling.”

“Yes, I do, mummy, peace in the valley of Bong.”

Betty walked to church with me.  “Aunt Woggles,” she said, “you know the gentleman in the Bible who lived inside the whale?”

“Yes, darling,” I said, “I do remember.”  My heart sank at the difficulties presented by Jonah as gentleman.

“Well,” she said, “what dye suppose he did without candles in the dark passages of the whale?”

Betty evidently pictured the dark passages of the whale to be what Haines used to be before electric light was installed.  The whale, like a house, must be modernized to meet the requirements of the day.  When Betty starts asking questions, she mercifully quickly follows one with another, and does not wait for answers.  The interior economy of the whale suggested various trains of thought, and she went skipping along beside me, or rather in front of me, propounding the most astounding theories.  I was quite glad when Mr. Dudley and Hugh caught us up.