"I hope the next time we come you will be able to tell us some nice bogey stories about death and the judgment, and hell, and that kind of thing," she said politely. "They interest us very much. You remember, you told us some before?"
"It must be very jolly for grandpapa to have you here always, ready to make his blood run cold whenever he feels dull," Diavolo observed, looking up at the priest admiringly. "You do it so well, you know, just as if you believed it all."
"We tried it once with some children we had to spend the day with us at Hamilton House," Angelica said. "We took them into a dark room—the long room, you know, Aunt Fulda; and Diavolo rubbed a match on the wall at the far end, and I explained that that was a glimmer of hell-fire at a great distance off; and then we told them if they didn't keep quite still the old devil himself would come creeping up behind without any noise, and jump on their backs."
"And the little beggars howled," Diavolo added, as if that consequence still filled him with astonishment.
"My dear children, I am afraid you tell dreadful stories," Lady Fulda exclaimed in a horrified tone.
"Yes," said Angelica, with her grave little nod; "and we're improving; but we cannot come up to Father Ricardo yet in that line."
"Not by a long chalk," said Diavolo.
"But, my dear child," Lady Fulda solemnly asserted, "Father Ricardo tells you nothing but what is absolutely true."
"How do you know?" Angelica asked.
"Oh—oh!" Lady Fulda stammered, and then looked at the priest appealingly.