"Yes, explain yourself," said James and Rachel. "Was mother in the secret?"
"No; but Dorcas was. Let go my hair, James, and I'll speak.—Fact is, I happened to find that rag baby out there on the scaffold this afternoon with that pocket on its neck, and so I dreamed a dream to suit myself."
"Yes," said Dorcas; "and I told him just how Israel Crossman looked, and all about Siller Noonin, and didn't he say it off like a book?"
"Wasn't it a dream, then?" asked little Patty.
"No, dear; it was only nonsense."
"Well, then, I didn't put my dolly out there,—did I?"
"Yes, of course you did," said her mother; "only you have forgotten it."
But Patty looked puzzled. She could not recollect that ever so long ago, the day the beggar girl came to the house, she had cured Polly Dolly Adaline's sore throat with her mother's quilted pocket, and then had carried the sick dolly out to the barn, "so she could get well faster where there wasn't any noise."
No, Patty could not recollect this, and the whole thing was a mystery to her.
"Children," said Mrs. Lyman, looking up from her stockings, as soon as there was a chance to speak, "I have one word to say on this subject: whenever you hear of signs and wonders, don't believe in them till you've sifted them to the bottom. And when you've done that, mark my words, you'll find there's no more substance to them than there is to Francis Starbird's April Fool Dream."