“Anyhow,” went on Scipio, when all argument had ceased, “it was jest up to that feller not to pick that fruit. An’ he didn’t mean to neither, only he got kind o’ friendly with that snake––”
Little Vada jumped up.
“I know––I know,” she cried, in the wildest excitement. “The snake made him eat an apple, an’ then the rain came down, an’ poured an’ poured––”
“Poured an’ poured,” echoed Jamie, jumping to his feet and dancing around his sister.
“That’s so,” admitted Scipio, in relief.
“Poured nothin’,” murmured Sandy under his breath. “He’s messin’ up the whole yarn.”
But as his comment didn’t reach the father’s ears he went on placidly.
“Wal, the rain poured down,” he said, “so they was nigh drownded––”
“Why’d the rain tum?” suddenly inquired Jamie with interest.
“Ah!” murmured Scipio. Then he added brightly, “Because he picked the fruit.”