“That is not respectful, Bissy. I know because I know--that should be enough for you. Come away, and I will tell you the reason.” She had a lively imagination, and she “made up” on the spot:-- “When the first mother ate the forbidden fruit, she found a stone in it, which her little white teeth could not crack. So she took the stone from her pretty mouth and threw it away. But it was really the stone, and not the flesh, which contained the secret of the tree of knowledge, so that she gained nothing by her disobedience, as it has always been easy to see. But a toad, being the lowliest thing on earth, crept, and found the stone and tried to swallow it, which it has never been able to do to this day, though you may see it all puffed and swollen with the effort. For the stone stuck in its head, where it still remains for anybody to find.” Bissy put out his underlip with polite incredulity. “If anybody knows, anybody can have it.” “Ah!” said Isabella; “you are a very clever Bissy; but there is something more. One must not take life in recovering the stone, since it contains the principle of all life; and therefore, if you kill the toad, as you must do to gain the stone, you will find nothing for your pains.” “Which toad?” said Bissy. “Why, this one.” “But it is not the only toad in the world.” “It is the only toad that matters to my story,” said Isabella. “What a little plague you are with your questions. Come, I want to see my golden lily. Is it full out yet?” “Yes, Madonna,” said Bissy. “I will race you there--quick--is anybody looking?” The imp hesitated, glowed a little, then put himself in position. “One, two, three--off!” They ran across the grove, out of it by a green opening, and so on to the slope of sward bending to the backwater visible from the ford. Isabella, flushed and dishevelled, was first by a yard or two. “O!” she cried; “the love! Bissy, I must have it; Bissy, I must.” Gravity shook its head judicial. “There’s no way but to wade; and through the mud.” “Wade, then.” “I am too little; and I have no love for the water, Madonna.” “Then I shall go myself; and you shall look on.” “I am your servant, Madonna; it is my duty to obey.” “O, what an excellent servant! He will not stir from his post, though I drown.” Laughing and wilful she stepped into the water, staggered a little, found her balance and went cautiously forward. The mud sucked at her dainty shoes, captured one, and still she was not deterred. She had almost reached the prize, when the sound of rolling wheels broke upon her ears. She paused aghast. We have heard what followed. CHAPTER III. THE COMPACT