"And then afterwards, Willie, if I had only sat still as Effie told me to, I might have got off all right. But no, I had to come racing off here in the hot sun and I knew I oughtn't to, and then I went into the blackberry patch and I knew I hadn't any right to, and all I got to say is, it's a wonder a hundred bees didn't sting me instead of one. . . ."
Willie looked at her curiously.
"Do you think you got stung because you picked those berries?"
"I just know that was why."
"Well, the gravedigger was getting it worse than you, and I guess he had a right to be there, hadn't he?"
For a moment Margery was stumped, but only for a moment.
"Yes, Willie," she said simply, "he had a right to chase us, but—he had no right to use such turrible langwedge. I'm not one bit surprised he got stung for it. You heard him yourself, Willie, you know you did."
Yes, Willie had heard him, and Margery was certainly right in intimating that the young gravedigger was exceptionally fluent in cuss words. With cause and effect so clearly demonstrated, Willie Jones had no further argument against Margery's conception of a prompt and well-deserved judgment. He was silent a moment, then went back to something else.
"So you think you oughtn't to have gone into the blackberry patch at all?"
"Why, of course I think so! I know so! Wasn't there a sign up not to? Why, taking blackberries when there's a sign up is not much better than downright stealing!"