knows better than that."

"Well, all I hope is that he'll wash behind his ears," said
Felicity resignedly.

"How is Pat to-day?" asked Cecily, by way of changing the
conversation.

"Pat isn't a bit better. He just mopes about the kitchen," said
the Story Girl anxiously. "I went out to the barn and I saw a
mouse. I had a stick in my hand and I fetched a swipe at it--so.
I killed it stone dead. Then I took it in to Paddy. Will you
believe it? He wouldn't even look at it. I'm so worried. Uncle
Roger says he needs a dose of physic. But how is he to be made
take it, that's the question. I mixed a powder in some milk and
tried to pour it down his throat while Peter held him. Just look
at the scratches I got! And the milk went everywhere except down
Pat's throat."

"Wouldn't it be awful if--if anything happened to Pat?" whispered
Cecily.

"Well, we could have a jolly funeral, you know," said Dan.

We looked at him in such horror that Dan hastened to apologize.

"I'd be awful sorry myself if Pat died. But if he DID, we'd have
to give him the right kind of a funeral," he protested. "Why,
Paddy just seems like one of the family."