Ursula's eyes snapped with anger. “Because I know it!” she said. “Not a sparrow falls to the ground without His seeing it.” “But it falls, just the same. What good is seeing it fall?” Old Ursula's jaws worked, but she could not get any word out for the moment, she was so horrified. When she got her tongue, she stormed out, “Go about your business, you puppy, or I will take a stick to you!” I could not speak, I was so scared. I knew that with his notions about the human race Satan would consider it a matter of no consequence to strike her dead, there being “plenty more”; but my tongue stood still, I could give her no warning. But nothing happened; Satan remained tranquil--tranquil and indifferent. I suppose he could not be insulted by Ursula any more than the king could be insulted by a tumble-bug. The old woman jumped to her feet when she made her remark, and did it as briskly as a young girl. It had been many years since she had done the like of that. That was Satan's influence; he was a fresh breeze to the weak and the sick, wherever he came. His presence affected even the lean kitten, and it skipped to the ground and began to chase a leaf. This surprised Ursula, and she stood looking at the creature and nodding her head wonderingly, her anger quite forgotten. “What's come over it?” she said. “Awhile ago it could hardly walk.” “You have not seen a kitten of that breed before,” said Satan. Ursula was not proposing to be friendly with the mocking stranger, and she gave him an ungentle look and retorted: “Who asked you to come here and pester me, I'd like to know? And what do you know about what I've seen and what I haven't seen?” “You haven't seen a kitten with the hair-spines on its tongue pointing to the front, have you?” “No--nor you, either.” “Well, examine this one and see.” Ursula was become pretty spry, but the kitten was spryer, and she could not catch it, and had to give it up. Then Satan said: “Give it a name, and maybe it will come.” Ursula tried several names, but the kitten was not interested. “Call it Agnes. Try that.” The creature answered to the name and came. Ursula examined its tongue. “Upon my word, it's true!” she said. “I have not seen this kind of a cat before. Is it yours?” “No.” “Then how did you know its name so pat?” “Because all cats of that breed are named Agnes; they will not answer to any other.”