We were all, with the exception of Uncle Roger, more or less grumpy in the household of King next day. Perhaps our nerves had been upset by the excitement attendant on Jimmy Patterson's . But it is more likely that our crankiness was the result of the supper we had eaten the previous night. Even children cannot pie, and cold fried pork ham, and fruit cake before going to bed with entire . Aunt Janet had forgotten to warn Uncle Roger to keep an eye on our bedtime snacks, and we ate what seemed good unto us.  
Some of us had dreams, and all of us carried chips on our shoulders at breakfast. Felicity and Dan began a which they kept up the entire day. Felicity had a natural for what we called "bossing," and in her mother's absence she deemed that she had a right to rule . She knew better than to make any attempt to assert authority over the Story Girl, and Felix and I were allowed some length of tether; but Cecily, Dan, and Peter were expected to submit dutifully to her decrees. In the main they did; but on this particular morning Dan was plainly inclined to rebel. He had had time to grow sore over the things that Felicity had said to him when Jimmy Patterson was thought lost, and he began the day with a flatly expressed determination that he was not going to let Felicity rule the roost.
 
It was not a pleasant day, and to make matters worse it rained until late in the afternoon. The Story Girl had not recovered from the mortifications of the previous day; she would not talk, and she would not tell a single story; she sat on Rachel Ward's chest and ate her breakfast with the air of a . After breakfast she washed the dishes and did the bed-room work in grim silence; then, with a book under one arm and Pat under the other, she betook herself to the window-seat in the upstairs hall, and would not be from that retreat, charmed we never so wisely. She stroked the purring Paddy, and read on, with maddening to all our pleadings.
 
Even Cecily, the and mild, was snappish, and complained of headache. Peter had gone home to see his mother, and Uncle Roger had gone to Markdale on business. Sara Ray came up, but was so snubbed by Felicity that she went home, crying. Felicity got the dinner by herself, to ask or command assistance. She banged things about and the stove covers until even Cecily protested from her sofa. Dan sat on the floor and , his sole aim and object being to make a mess and annoy Felicity, in which noble ambition he succeeded .
 
"I wish Aunt Janet and Uncle Alec were home," said Felix. "It's not half so much fun having the grown-ups away as I thought it would be."
 
"I wish I was back in Toronto," I said sulkily. The mince pie was to blame for THAT wish.
 
"I wish you were, I'm sure," said Felicity, the fire noisily.
 
"Any one who lives with you, Felicity King, will always be wishing he was somewhere else," said Dan.
 
"I wasn't talking to you, Dan King," retorted Felicity, "'Speak when you're spoken to, come when you're called.'"
 
"Oh, oh, oh," Cecily on the sofa. "I WISH it would stop raining. I WISH my head would stop aching. I WISH ma had never gone away. I WISH you'd leave Felicity alone, Dan."
 
"I wish girls had some sense," said Dan—which brought the orgy of wishing to an end for the time. A wishing fairy might have had the time of her life in the King kitchen that morning—particularly if she were a inclined fairy.
 
But even the effects of unholy snacks wear away at length. By tea-time things had brightened up. The rain had ceased, and the old, low-raftered room was full of sunshine which danced on the shining dishes of the dresser, made on the floor, and over the table whereon a delicious meal was spread. Felicity had put on her blue muslin, and looked so beautiful in it that her good humour was quite restored. Cecily's headache was better, and the Story Girl, refreshed by an afternoon , came down with smiles and sparkling eyes. Dan alone continued to nurse his , and would not even laugh when the Story Girl told us a tale brought to mind by some of the ". Mr. Scott's plums" which were on the table.
 
"The Rev. Mr. Scott was the man who thought the pulpit door must be made for speerits, you know," she said. "I heard Uncle Edward telling ever so many stories about him. He was called to this congregation, and he laboured here long and faithfully, and was much beloved, though he was very eccentric."
 
"What does that mean?" asked Peter.
 
"! It just means queer," said Cecily, nudging him with her elbow. "A common man would be queer, but when it's a minister, it's eccentric."
 
"When he gets very old," continued the Story Girl, "the Presbytery thought it was time he was . HE didn't think so; but the Presbytery had their way, because there were so many of them to one of him. He was retired, and a young man was called to Carlisle. Mr. Scott went to live in town, but he came out to Carlisle very often, and visited all the people regularly, just the same as when he was their minister. The young minister was a very good young man, and tried to do his duty; but he was dreadfully afraid of meeting old Mr. Scott, because he had been told that the old minister was very angry at being set aside, and would likely give him a sound drubbing, if he ever met him. One day the young minister was visiting the Crawfords in Markdale, when they suddenly heard old Mr. Scott's voice in the kitchen. The young minister turned pale as the dead, and Mrs. Crawford to hid him. But she couldn't get him out of the room, and all she could do was to hide him in the china closet. The young minister slipped into the china closet, and old Mr. Scott came into the room. He talked very nicely, and read, and prayed. They made very long prayers in those days, you know; and at the end of his prayer he said, 'Oh Lord, bless the poor young man hiding in the closet. Give him courage not to fear the face of man. Make him a burning and a shining light to this sadly abused congregation.' Just imagine the feelings of the young minister in the china closet! But he came right out like a man, though his face was very red, as soon as Mr. Scott had done praying. And Mr. Scott was lovely to him, and shook hands, and never mentioned the china closet. And they were the best of friends ever afterwards."
 
"How did old Mr. Scott find out the young minister was in the closet?" asked Felix.
 
"Nobody ever knew. They supposed he had seen him through the window before he came into the house, and guessed he must be in the closet—because there was no way for him to get out of the room."
 
"Mr. Scott planted the yellow plum tree in Grandfather's time," said Cecily, peeling one of the plums, "and when he did it he said it was as an act as he ever did. I wonder what he meant. I don't see anything very Christian about planting a tree."
 
"I do," said the Story Girl .
 
When next we assembled ou............