` Deviltry ' is n't swearing at all . It only means extra bad mischief . '' `` Well , it 's not a very nice word , anyhow , '' said Felicity . `` No , it is n't , '' agreed the Story Girl with a regretful sigh . `` It 's very expressive , but it is n't nice . That is the way with so many words . They 're expressive , but they 're not nice , and so a girl ca n't use them '' The Story Girl sighed again . She loved expressive words , and treasured them as some girls might have treasured jewels . To her , they were as lustrous pearls , threaded on the crimson cord of a vivid fancy . When she met with a new one she uttered it over and over to herself in solitude , weighing it , caressing it , infusing it with the radiance of her voice , making it her own in all its possibilities for ever . `` Well , anyhow , it is n't a suitable word in this case , '' insisted Felicity . `` We are not up to any dev -- any extra bad mischief . Writing down one 's dreams is n't mischief at all . '' Certainly it was n't . Surely not even the straitest sect of the grown-ups could call it so . If writing down your dreams , with agonizing care as to composition and spelling -- for who knew that the eyes of generations unborn might not read the record ? -- were not a harmless amusement , could anything be called so ? I trow not . We had been at it for a fortnight , and during that time we only lived to have dreams and write them down . The Story Girl had originated the idea one evening in the rustling , rain-wet ways of the spruce wood , where we were picking gum after a day of showers .
When we had picked enough , we sat down XXXXX the moss-grown stones at the end of a long arcade , where it opened out on the harvest-golden valley below us , our jaws exercising themselves vigorously on the spoil of our climbings .
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