funeral. As Dan said, the thing should be done properly, since
Paddy was no common cat. The Story Girl selected the spot for the
grave, in a little corner behind the cherry copse, where early
violets enskied the grass in spring, and we boys dug the grave,
making it "soft and narrow," as the heroine of the old ballad
wanted hers made. Sara Ray, who managed to come in time after
all, and Felicity stood and watched us, but Cecily and the Story
Girl kept far aloof.

"This time last night you never thought you'd be digging Pat's
grave to-night," sighed Felicity.

"We little k-know what a day will bring forth," sobbed Sara.
"I've heard the minister say that and it is true."

"Of course it's true. It's in the Bible; but I don't think you
should repeat it in connection with a cat," said Felicity
dubiously.

When all was in readiness the Story Girl brought her pet through
the orchard where he had so often frisked and prowled. No useless
coffin enclosed his breast but he reposed in a neat cardboard box.

"I wonder if it would be right to say 'ashes to ashes and dust to
dust,'" said Peter.

"No, it wouldn't," averred Felicity. "It would be real wicked."

"I think we ought to sing a hymn, anyway," asseverated Sara Ray.