“Hum!” quoth John. “I have an idea that if I were seeking—say a rose, and found a snail instead, that the snail might possibly be subjected to a like fate.”
“But it wasn’t the poor snails’ fault,” she objected.
“We have frequently,” said John sententiously, “to suffer for the sins of others. If I might offer a suggestion, I would point out that the fairies’ displeasure might be equally well marked by coal, stones, or even a copybook maxim. How does ‘Be good and you’ll be happy,’ or ‘Gifts are the reward of virtue,’ strike you?”
She shook her head.
“Fairies,” she assured him, “never indulge in moral reflections. They merely act.”
“‘Deeds, not words,’ being their motto,” laughed John. “But coal, now!”
“Yes,” she conceded, “I think coal might answer our purpose.”
There was a little pause.
“To a mere casual observer,” remarked John reflectively, “the young person in question might have appeared an embryo saint. From which we perceive the truth of the adage that appearances are deceitful.”
“Not in every case,” she retorted. “How do you know that she isn’t an embryo saint? Very much in embryo, I’ll allow. Oh, but there’s stuff in Molly. But do you suppose she’s understood among the village folk? Not a bit of it! It’s respectability they admire, wooden respectability.”