shed.

When Ferdinand got back to his Room and counted up, he had to admit
that Father was the only Outsider who seemed to be plugging for the
Alliance.

But all petty Suspicions and unworthy Doubts flickered and disappeared
when Nightfall came and Queenie was once more cuddled within the
strong right Fin, naming over some of the Men that he mustn't speak to
any more.

The course of True Love ran smooth for a couple of Days, and then came
a letter from his People, expressing the hope that he had picked out a
devout Unitarian. Otherwise the Progeny would start off under a
terrible Handicap.

He knew that Adele favored the Suffrage Thing and that she had read a
Book on how to recover from a Dance by lying down and giving a
Recitation, but he never had suspected her of any real Religious
Scruples.

Before he could tell her how the Little Ones had been predestined, she
notified him that her kinsmen had been peering into the Future and
that all the problematical Offspring had been put on the Waiting List
at the First Baptist Church.

Here was a grand Opening for Ferdinand. He resolved to make a Stand
and issue a ringing Ultimatum. He might as well tip it off to her and
the whole Tribe that he was to be Caesar in his own Shack.

So he went up to her House ready to die in the last Ditch rather than
yield to the advocates of Immersion. After viewing the Problem in all
its Aspects, he and Honey compromised by deciding that the Bairns were
to be orthodox Baptists.

Having sponged every Blot from the Escutcheon and laid out the Labels
for all Generations yet unborn, the incipient Benedick thought there
would be nothing more to it except Holding Hands and watching the
Calendar.

Just then a Dress-Maker swooped down and stole away the Light of his
Life.

Every time he went up to scratch on the Door and beg for a Kiss, a
Strange Lady with Pins in her Mouth would come out and shoo him away,
explaining that the Pearl of Womanhood was laid out in the Operating
Room, being measured for something additional.

Occasionally he saw her, at one of the many Dinners decreed by Custom.
They had to sit Miles apart, with Mountains of unseemly Victuals
stacked between them, while some moss-grown Offshoot of the Family
Tree rose and conquered his Asthma long enough to propose a Toast to
the Bride.

What they really craved was a Dim Corner and a box of Candied
Cherries.

The only Speeches they wished to hear could have been constr