"You mustn't inkerrupt the Sunday school," said Zaidee, severely. "Any way, there are crocky-dolls, if there ain't any bears. I saw a funny, long thing come out of the water the other day, and 'Liza said she guessed it was a crocky-doll."
"Tould it eat me up?" demanded Kenneth, hastily.
"I don't think it could eat you all up at once," said Zaidee, cautiously; "but it might take bites out of you."
"What are you doing, children?" said Eunice, coming forward, and throwing herself on the sand beside them, and pulling Helen, her special pet, down into her arms.
"Playing Sunday school, Eunice," said Zaidee, sitting down, herself. "We're going to have a Sunday school every Tuesday afternoon, just the same as you have the Echo Club, you know. Helen's going to make up the texts. She makes up beautiful texts, just like the Bible."
"Why, Zaidee!" remonstrated Eunice, looking shocked. "You mustn't say that anything is as nice as the Bible. What was it, pettikins?"
But Helen was shy, and needed much coaxing before she could be persuaded to give her "text," which was a very practical one.
"She who doth not what she is told, gets worse."
"Bravo!" cried Eunice, laughing. "That is a fine text."
"She made it up all her own self," said Zaidee, quite as proud of her twin's performance as if it had been her own.