“Yes, dear; and so now look me full in the face.” “There--you're very pretty, Ruperta.” “Don't be giddy; I'm hideous; so behave, and answer all my questions. Oh, I'm so unhappy. Answer me, is young people, or old people, goodest?” “You should say best, dear. Good, better, best. Why, old people, to be sure--much.” “So I thought; and that is why I am so puzzled. Then your papa and mine are much betterer--will that do?--than we are?” “Of course they are.” “There he goes! Such a child for answering slap bang I never.” “I'm not a child. I'm older than you are, Ruperta.” “That's a story.” “Well, then, I'm as old; for Mary says we were born the same day--the same hour--the same minute.” “La! we are twins.” She paused, however, on this discovery, and soon found reason to doubt her hasty conclusion. “No such thing,” said she: “they tell me the bells were ringing for you being found, and then I was found--to catechism you.” “There! then you see I _am_ older than you, Ruperta.” “Yes, dear,” said Ruperta, very gravely; “I'm younger in my body, but older in my head.” This matter being settled so that neither party could complain, since antiquity was evenly distributed, the catechizing recommenced. “Do you believe in 'Let dogs delight?'” “I don't know.” “What!” screamed Ruperta. “Oh, you wicked boy! Why, it comes next after the Bible.” “Then I do believe it,” said Compton, who, to tell the truth, had been merely puzzled by the verb, and was not afflicted with any doubt that the composition referred to was a divine oracle. “Good boy!” said Ruperta, patronizingly. “Well, then, this is what puzzles me; your papa and mine don't believe in 'Dogs delight.' They have been quarreling this twelve years and more, and mean to go on, in spite of mamma. She _is_ good. Didn't you know that your papa and mine are great enemies?” “No, Ruperta. Oh, what a pity!” “Don't, Compton, don't: there, you have made me cry.” He set himself to console her. She consented to be consoled. But she said, with a sigh, “What becomes of old people being better than young ones, now? Are you and I bears and lions? Do we scratch out each other's eyes? It is all puzzle, puzzle, puzzle. I wish I was dead! Nurse says, when I'm dead I shall understand it all. But I don't know; I saw a dead cat once, and she didn't seem to know as much as before; puzzle, puzzle. Compton, do you think they are puzzled in heaven?” “No.” “Then the sooner we both go there, the better.” “Yes, but not just now.” “Why not?” “Because of the cowslips.” “Here's a boy! What, would you rather be among the cowslips than the angels? and think of the diamonds and pearls that heaven is paved with.” “But _you_ mightn't be there.” “What! Am I a wicked girl, then--wickeder than you, that is a boy?”