Therefore, we turned to each other in dumb amazement; then I raised the lantern to make sure that it really was Paul who had spoken. He was getting up from his crouching position and the light showed that his little mouth was tightly set and that his wide-open eyes sparkled like stars. Even as we stared at him his lips parted again, and again he said: "Dar-r-r-n it!" I am thankful that the well was partially covered and that I was able to keep Marion from sliding into it. "_Paul!_" she cried in horror, "oh, Paul!" I hastened to follow her lead. "Paul," I said, with fierce sternness, "what do you mean, sir?" "I mean," he replied accusingly, "that it's all spoiled. They've taken fright at your squabbling and put out their lamps." Again we stared at each other in questioning silence. What had taken fright we knew not, but we did know that we had squabbled. "Where did you hear that dreadful word?" demanded Marion. "Darn?" queried Paul, with innocent pride. "I heard William Wedder say something when the coal-oil barrel rolled on his foot, and when I asked him 'I beg your pardon?' he couldn't remember what he had said, then when I kept on asking him to try to remember he said it must have been an exclamation called _darn_. I think it's ever so much nicer than _bother_ or _good gracious_." "It's a vulgar word, and only vulgar people use it," I commented reprovingly. "Why, father, William said that when Joe Wrigley's horse stood up on his hind legs you said----" "Paul," I interrupted hurriedly, "you said something took fright, and----" "Hush!" said he, in a mysterious whisper, coming close to me. "It was the fairies. William said if we made an oil well and didn't say anything about it, they'd be sure to come to fill their lamps, and they have. I saw three of them climbing up my rope ladder when you frightened them off." "Then you knew that William made this?" I exclaimed. "Of course. I helped him to bury the barrel so that the fairies wouldn't know it wasn't a real natural well. He said if we kept it a secret it would be a pleasant surprise to you when I showed you the fairies. Hush! They're climbing up the rope ladder again. Peep down through that crack and you'll see them--very--ve--ry--quietly. There now--stand back. I'm going to help them up over the edge." The next morning Peter Waydean came over to see me, his face wreathed in smiles, his manner most cordial. "Mr. Carton," he said genially, "I ain't on the hunt for oil wells this morning, but I was on my way to thank you for the trouble you took in rigging up that one when I met your little boy coming over to see me." "Paul!" I exclaimed--"to see you?"