dog in it, and that the dog would have bitten me and given me
hydrophobia. And now you know as much as I do myself."

"I can't tell what to think, I'm sure," said Aunt Charlotte. "Anyhow,
it's most providential that you escaped, but as for your being
prevented, as you say--as for anything pushing you back--why, my dear,
of course that was only your fancy. What else could it have been? I'm
far too practical to believe in presentiments, and warnings, and
nonsense of that sort. I'd as soon believe in table-rapping. No, my
dear; I thank God you've come back safe and sound, but don't go
hinting at anything supernatural, because I simply don't believe in
it."

"Then why do you thank God?" asked Austin, "Isn't He supernatural?
Why, He's the only really supernatural Being possible, it seems to
me."

That was a poser. Aunt Charlotte, having recovered her equanimity,
began to feel argumentative. It was incumbent on her to prove that she
was not inconsistent in attributing Austin's preservation to the
intervention of God, while disclaiming any belief in what she called
the supernatural. And for the moment she did not know how to do it.

"By the supernatural, Austin," she said at last, in a very oracular
tone, "I mean superstition. And I call that story of yours a piece of
superstition and nothing else."

"Auntie, you do talk the most delightful nonsense of any elderly lady
of my acquaintance," cried Austin, as he laughingly patted her on the
back. "It's no use arguing with you, because you never can see that