“‘Margery Hemingway,’ I says, ‘how dare you!’ And she looks up all cool and cunning, and says:  ’Ho!  I bet I know worse words than what you said!  See if I don’t.’  So then I shut her off mighty quick.  But still she didn’t cry.  ‘I s’pose I must go back home,’ she says.  ’And perhaps it is all for the best.  I have a very beautiful home.  Perhaps I should stay there oftener.’

“I turned on the Blackhanders.

“‘Did these brutes entice you away with candy?’ I demanded.  ’Was they holding you here for ransom?’

“‘Huh!  I should think not!’ she says.  ’They are a couple of ’fraid-cats.  They were afraid as anything when we all got lost in these woods and wanted to keep on finding our way out.  And I said I bet they were awful cowards, and the fat one said of course he was; but this old one became very, very indignant and said he bet he wasn’t any more of a coward than I am, but we simply ought to go where there were more houses.  And so I consented and we got lost worse than ever—­about a hundred miles, I think—­in this dense forest and we couldn’t return to our beautiful homes.  And this one said he was a trapper, scout, and guide; so he built this lovely fire and I ate a lot of crullers the silly things had brought with them.  And then this old one flung his robe over me because I was a princess, and it made me invisible to prowling wolves; and anyway he sat up to shoot them with his deadly rifle that he took away from Cousin Rupert.  And Cousin Rupert became very tearful indeed; so we took his hat away, too, because it’s a truly scout hat.’

“‘And she smoked a cigarette,’ says Rupert, still sobbing.

“‘He smoked one, too, and I mean to tell his mother,’ says Margery.  ‘It’s something I think she ought to know.’

“‘It made me sick,’ says Rupert.  ’It was a poison cigarette; I nearly died.’

“‘Mine never made me sick,’ says Margery—­’only it was kind of sting-y to the tongue and I swallowed smoke through my nose repeatedly.  And first, this old one wouldn’t give us the cigarettes at all, until I threatened to cast a spell on him and turn him into a toad forever.  I never did that to any one, but I bet I could.  And the fat one cried like anything and begged me not to turn the old one into a toad, and the old one said he didn’t think I could in a thousand years, but he wouldn’t take any chances in the Far West; so he gave us the cigarettes, and Rupert only smoked half of his and then he acted in a very common way, I must say.  And this old one said we would have br’iled b’ar steaks for breakfast.  What is a br’iled b’ar steak?  I’m hungry.’

“Such was little angel-faced Margery.  Does she promise to make life interesting for those who love her, or does she not?