That was exactly the position of us all. As in the case of the bell-ringing ghost, we did not believe but we trembled. “Nobody might have known when the Bible was written,” said Dan, “but maybe somebody knows now. Why, the Bible was written thousands of years ago, and that paper was printed this very morning. There’s been time to find out ever so much more.” “I want to do so many things,” said the Story Girl, plucking off her crown of buttercup gold with a tragic gesture, “but if it’s the Judgment Day to-morrow I won’t have time to do any of them.” “It can’t be much worse than dying, I s’pose,” said Felix, grasping at any straw of comfort. “I’m awful glad I’ve got into the habit of going to church and Sunday School this summer,” said Peter very soberly. “I wish I’d made up my mind before this whether to be a Presbyterian or a Methodist. Do you s’pose it’s too late now?” “Oh, that doesn’t matter,” said Cecily earnestly. “If--if you’re a Christian, Peter, that is all that’s necessary.” “But it’s too late for that,” said Peter miserably. “I can’t turn into a Christian between this and two o’clock to-morrow. I’ll just have to be satisfied with making up my mind to be a Presbyterian or a Methodist. I wanted to wait till I got old enough to make out what was the difference between them, but I’ll have to chance it now. I guess I’ll be a Presbyterian, ‘cause I want to be like the rest of you. Yes, I’ll be a Presbyterian.” “I know a story about Judy Pineau and the word Presbyterian,” said the Story Girl, “but I can’t tell it now. If to-morrow isn’t the Judgment Day I’ll tell it Monday.” “If I had known that to-morrow might be the Judgment Day I wouldn’t have quarrelled with you last Monday, Sara Stanley, or been so horrid and sulky all the week. Indeed I wouldn’t,” said Felicity, with very unusual humility. Ah, Felicity! We were all, in the depths of our pitiful little souls, reviewing the innumerable things we would or would not have done “if we had known.” What a black and endless list they made--those sins of omission and commission that rushed accusingly across our young memories! For us the leaves of the Book of Judgment were already opened; and we stood at the bar of our own consciences, than which for youth or eld, there can be no more dread tribunal. I thought of all the evil deeds of my short life--of pinching Felix to make him cry out at family prayers, of playing truant from Sunday School and going fishing one day, of a certain fib--no, no away from this awful hour with all such euphonious evasions--of a LIE I had once told, of many a selfish and unkind word and thought and action. And to-morrow might be the great and terrible day of the last accounting! Oh, if I had only been a better boy! “The quarrel was as much my fault as yours, Felicity,” said the Story Girl, putting her arm around Felicity. “We can’t undo it now. But if to-morrow isn’t the Judgment Day we must be careful never to quarrel again. Oh, I wish father was here.”