"When you are older, and able to understand these things," Father Ricardo began with gentle earnestness, "perhaps you will allow me—"
"But how do you know it's true yourself?" Angelica demanded.
"Did you ever see the devil,
With his little spade and shovel,
Digging praties in the garden
With his tail cocked up?"—
Diavolo chanted, accompanying the words with a little dance, in which
Angelica, holding up her habit, joined incontinently.
Lady Fulda remained grave, but the old duke and Father Ricardo himself were moved to mirth, and there was no more talk of Revealed Religion, the Power of the Popedom, and the glory of the Church on earth, at Morne that day.
Lady Fulda had been firm about sending the children home under escort, and they found a steady old groom waiting ready to mount a spirited horse when they went down to the courtyard to get on their ponies. They had discovered a box of croquet mallets on their way downstairs, and borrowed one each.
As they descended the steep hill leading from the castle, at a walk, they began to discuss recent events, as their habit was.
"What did you do when the chime went, and you hung your head?" said
Angelica.
"I hoped there'd be hot cakes for tea; bat I didn't mean it for a prayer,"
Diavolo answered, as if the matter admitted of a doubt.
"I'm glad we decided to go secondly to the palace; I didn't think much of grandpapa's tea," Angelica observed. "It was all china, and no cakes—to speak of; no crisp ones, you know."