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!”