The Story Girl and I were the only ones who could pay him compliments to his liking . The Story Girl would box his ears with her fist and say , `` Bless your gray heart , Paddy , you 're a good sort of old rascal , '' and Pat would purr his satisfaction ; I used to take a handful of the skin on his back , shake him gently and say , `` Pat , you 've forgotten more than any human being ever knew , '' and I vow Paddy would lick his chops with delight . But to be called `` a sweet cat ! '' Oh , Sara , Sara ! Felicity tried -- and had the most gratifying luck with -- a new and complicated cake recipe -- a gorgeous compound of a plumminess to make your mouth water . The number of eggs she used in it would have shocked Aunt Janet 's thrifty soul , but that cake , like beauty , was its own excuse . Uncle Roger ate three slices of it at tea-time and told Felicity she was an artist . The poor man meant it as a compliment ; but Felicity , who knew Uncle Blair was an artist and had a poor opinion of such fry , looked indignant and retorted , indeed she was n't ! `` Peter says there 's any amount of raspberries back in the maple clearing , '' said Dan . `` S'posen we all go after tea and pick some ? '' `` I 'd like to , '' sighed Felicity , `` but we 'd come home tired and with all the milking to do . You boys better go alone . '' `` Peter and I will attend to the milking for one evening , '' said Uncle Roger . `` You can all go . I have an idea that a raspberry pie for to-morrow night , when the folks come home , would hit the right spot . '' Accordingly , after tea we all set off , armed with jugs and cups . Felicity , thoughtful creature , also took a small basketful of jelly cookies along with her . We had to go back through the maple woods to the extreme end of Uncle Roger 's farm -- a pretty walk , through a world of green , whispering boughs and spice-sweet ferns , and shifting patches of sunlight . The raspberries were plentiful , and we were not long in filling our receptacles . Then we foregathered around a tiny wood spring , cold and pellucid under its young maples , and ate the jelly cookies ; and the Story Girl told us a tale of a haunted spring in a mountain glen where a fair white lady dwelt , who pledged all comers in a golden cup with jewels bright .
`` And if you drank of the cup with her , '' said the Story Girl , her eyes glowing XXXXX the emerald dusk about us , `` you were never seen in the world again ; you were whisked straightway to fairyland , and lived there with a fairy bride .
after around as in of on than through to with