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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Prudence Says So</p> +<p>Author: Ethel Hueston</p> +<p>Release Date: May 28, 2007 [eBook #21635]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRUDENCE SAYS SO***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Suzanne Lybarger, Brian Janes,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<h1>PRUDENCE SAYS SO</h1> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 298px;"> +<img src="images/gs004.jpg" width="298" height="400" alt="Come on. Let's beat it" title="Come on. Let's beat it" /> +<span class="caption">Come on. Let's beat it</span> +</div> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<div class='bbox'> +<h1>PRUDENCE SAYS SO</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>ETHEL HUESTON</h2> + + +<div class="center"><small>AUTHOR OF</small><br /> +PRUDENCE OF THE PARSONAGE<br /> +<br /><br /><br /> +<br /><small>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY</small><br /> +ARTHUR WILLIAM BROWN<br /> +<br /><br /><br /></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 92px;"> +<img src="images/emblem.png" width="92" height="79" alt="Emblem" title="Emblem" /> +</div> +<div class='center'><br /><br /><br /><br /> +NEW YORK<br /> +GROSSET & DUNLAP<br /> +PUBLISHERS</div><br /> +</div> + +<div class="center"><small><br /><br /><span class="smcap">Copyright 1916<br /> +The Bobbs-Merrill Company</span></small> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center"><small><i>To</i></small><br /> +<small>MY LITTLE DAUGHTER</small><br /> +<big>ELIZABETH</big><br /> +<small>MY COMRADE AND MY</small><br /> +<small>INSPIRATION</small><br /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">chapter</span></td><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">page</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>I</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Chaperon</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>II</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Science and Health</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_19'>19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>III</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Gift From Heaven</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_39'>39</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IV</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">How Carol Spoiled the Wedding</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_58'>58</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>V</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Serenade</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_80'>80</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VI</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Substitution</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_95'>95</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VII</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Making Matches</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_114'>114</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VIII</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Lark's Literary Venture</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_130'>130</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IX</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Clear Call</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_154'>154</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>X</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Jerry Junior</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_179'>179</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XI</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The End of Fairy</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_193'>193</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XII</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Sowing Seeds</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_209'>209</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIII</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Connie Problem</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_222'>222</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIV</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Boosting Connie</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_238'>238</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XV</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Millionaire's Son</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_252'>252</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVI</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Twins Have a Proposal</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_277'>277</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVII</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Girl Who Wouldn't Propose</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_297'>297</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2>PRUDENCE SAYS SO</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>THE CHAPERON</h3> + + +<div class='unindent'>"<big><b>G</b></big>IRLS,—come down! Quick!—I want to see how you look!"<br /></div> + +<p>Prudence stood at the foot of the stairs, deftly drawing on her black +silk gloves,—gloves still good in Prudence's eyes, though Fairy had +long since discarded them as unfit for service. There was open anxiety +in Prudence's expression, and puckers of worry perpendicularly creased +her white forehead.</p> + +<p>"Girls!" she called again. "Come down! Father, you'd better hurry,—it's +nearly train time. Girls, are you deaf!"</p> + +<p>Her insistence finally brought response. A door opened in the hallway +above, and Connie started down the stairs, fully dressed, except that +she limped along in one stocking-foot, her shoe in her hand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's so silly of you to get all dressed before you put on your shoes, +Connie," Prudence reproved her as she came down. "It wrinkles you up so. +But you do look nice. Wasn't it dear of the Ladies' Aid to give you that +dress for your birthday? It's so dainty and sweet,—and goodness knows +you needed one. They probably noticed that. Let me fix your bow a +little. Do be careful, dear, and don't get mussed before we come back. +Aunt Grace will be so much gladder to live with us if we all look sweet +and clean. And you'll be good, won't you, Connie, and—Twins, will you +come!"</p> + +<p>"They are sewing up the holes in each other's stockings," Connie +vouchsafed. "They're all dressed."</p> + +<p>The twins, evidently realizing that Prudence's patience was near the +breaking point, started down-stairs for approval, a curious procession. +All dressed as Connie had said, and most charming, but they walked close +together, Carol stepping gingerly on one foot and Lark stooping low, +carrying a needle with great solicitude,—the thread reaching from the +needle to a small hole on Carol's instep.</p> + +<p>"What on earth are you doing?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm sewing up the holes in Carol's stocking," Lark explained. "If you +had waited a minute I would have finished—Hold still, Carol,—don't +walk so jerky or you'll break the thread. There were five holes in her +left stocking, Prudence, and I'm—"</p> + +<p>Prudence frowned disapprovingly. "It's a very bad habit to sew up holes +in your stockings when you are wearing them. If you had darned them all +yesterday as I told you, you'd have had plenty of—Mercy, Lark, you have +too much powder on!"</p> + +<p>"I know it,—Carol did it. She said she wanted me to be of an +intellectual pallor." Lark mopped her face with one hand.</p> + +<p>"You'd better not mention to papa that we powdered to-day," Carol +suggested. "He's upset. It's very hard for a man to be reasonable when +he's upset, you know."</p> + +<p>"You look nice, twins." Prudence advanced a step, her eyes on Carol's +hair, sniffing suspiciously. "Carol, did you curl your hair?"</p> + +<p>Carol blushed. "Well, just a little," she confessed. "I thought Aunt +Grace would appreciate me more with a crown of frizzy ringlets."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You'll spoil your hair if you don't leave it alone, and it will serve +you right, too. It's very pretty as it is naturally,—plenty curly +enough and—Oh, Fairy, I know Aunt Grace will love you," she cried +ecstatically. "You look like a dream, you—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, —a nightmare," said Carol snippily. "If I saw Fairy coming at me +on a dark night I'd—"</p> + +<p>"Papa, we'll miss the train!" Then as he came slowly down the stairs, +she said to her sisters again, anxiously: "Oh, girls, do keep nice and +clean, won't you? And be very sweet to Aunt Grace! It's so—awfully good +of her—to come—and take care of us,—" Prudence's voice broke a +little. The admission of another to the parsonage mothering hurt her.</p> + +<p>Mr. Starr stopped on the bottom step, and with one foot as a pivot, +slowly revolved for his daughters' inspection.</p> + +<p>"How do I look?" he demanded. "Do you think this suit will convince +Grace that I am worth taking care of? Do I look twenty-five dollars +better than I did yesterday?"</p> + +<p>The girls gazed at him with most adoring and exclamatory approval.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Father! You look perfectly grand!—Isn't it beautiful?—Of course, you +looked nicer than anybody else even in the old suit, but—it—well, it +was—"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly disgracefully shabby," put in Fairy quickly. "Entirely +unworthy a minister of your—er—lovely family!"</p> + +<p>"I hope none of you have let it out among the members how long I wore +that old suit. I don't believe I could face my congregation on Sundays +if I thought they were mentally calculating the wearing value of my +various garments.—We'll have to go, Prudence.—You all look very +fine—a credit to the parsonage—and I am sure Aunt Grace will think us +well worth living with."</p> + +<p>"And don't muss the house up," begged Prudence, as her father opened the +door and pushed her gently out on the step.</p> + +<p>The four sisters left behind looked at one another solemnly. It was a +serious business,—most serious. Connie gravely put on her shoe, and +buttoned it. Lark sewed up the last hole in Carol's stocking,—Carol +balancing herself on one foot with nice precision for the purpose. Then, +all ready,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> they looked at one another again,—even more solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Fairy, "let's go in—and wait."</p> + +<p>Silently the others followed her in, and they all sat about, +irreproachably, on the well-dusted chairs, their hands folded +Methodistically in their smooth and spotless laps.</p> + +<p>The silence, and the solemnity, were very oppressive.</p> + +<p>"We look all right," said Carol belligerently.</p> + +<p>No one answered.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure Aunt Grace is as sweet as anybody could be," she added +presently.</p> + +<p>Dreary silence!</p> + +<p>"Don't we love her better than anybody on earth,—except ourselves?"</p> + +<p>Then, when the silence continued, her courage waned. "Oh, girls," she +whimpered, "isn't it awful? It's the beginning of the end of everything. +Outsiders have to come in now to take care of us, and Prudence'll get +married, and then Fairy will, and maybe us twins,—I mean, we twins. And +then there'll only be father and Connie left, and Miss Greet, or some +one, will get ahead of father<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> after all,—and Connie'll have to live +with a step-mother, and—it'll never seem like home any more, and—"</p> + +<p>Connie burst into loud and mournful wails.</p> + +<p>"You're very silly, Carol," Fairy said sternly. "Very silly, indeed. I +don't see much chance of any of us getting married very soon. And +Prudence will be here nearly a year yet. And—Aunt Grace is as sweet and +dear a woman as ever lived—mother's own sister—and she loves us dearly +and—"</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed Lark, "but it's not like having Prudence at the head of +things."</p> + +<p>"Prudence will be at the head of things for nearly a year, and—I think +we're mighty lucky to get Aunt Grace. It's not many women would be +willing to leave a fine stylish home, with a hundred dollars to spend on +just herself, and with a maid to wait on her, and come to an ugly old +house like this to take care of a preacher and a riotous family like +ours. It's very generous of Aunt Grace—very."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is," admitted Lark. "And as long as she was our aunt with her +fine home, and her hun<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>dred dollars a month, and her maid, I loved her +dearly. But—I don't want anybody coming in to manage us. We can manage +ourselves. We—"</p> + +<p>"We need a chaperon," put in Fairy deftly. "She isn't going to do the +housework, or the managing, or anything. She's just our chaperon. It +isn't proper for us to live without one, you know. We're too young. It +isn't—conventional."</p> + +<p>"And for goodness' sake, Connie," said Carol, "remember and call her our +chaperon, and don't talk about a housekeeper. There's some style to a +chaperon."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," said Fairy cheerfully. "And she wears such pretty +clothes, and has such pretty manners that she will be a distinct +acquisition to the parsonage. We can put on lots more style, of course. +And then it was awfully nice of her to send so much of her good +furniture,—the piano, for instance, to take the place of that old tin +pan of ours."</p> + +<p>Carol smiled a little. "If she had written, 'Dear John: I can't by any +means live in a house with furniture like that of yours, so you'll have +to let me bring some of my own,'—wouldn't we have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> been furious? That +was what she meant all right, but she put it very neatly."</p> + +<p>"Yes. 'I love some of my things so dearly,'" Lark quoted promptly, "'and +have lived with them so long that I am too selfish to part with them. +May I bring a few pieces along?' Yes, it was pretty cute of her."</p> + +<p>"And do remember, girls, that you mustn't ask her to darn your +stockings, and wash your handkerchiefs, and do your tasks about the +house. It would be disgraceful. And be careful not to hint for things +you want, for, of course, Aunt Grace will trot off and buy them for you +and papa will not like it. You twins'll have to be very careful to quit +dreaming about silk stockings, for instance." There was a tinge of +sarcasm in Fairy's voice as she said this.</p> + +<p>"Fairy, we did dream about silk stockings—you don't need to believe it +if you don't want to. But we did dream about them just the same!" Carol +sighed. "I think I could be more reconciled to Aunt Grace if I thought +she'd give me a pair of silk stockings. You know, Fairy, sometimes +lately I almost—don't like Aunt Grace—any more."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's very foolish and very wicked," declared Fairy. "I love her +dearly. I'm so glad she's come to live with us."</p> + +<p>"Are you?" asked Connie innocently. "Then why did you go up in the attic +and cry all morning when Prudence was fixing the room for her?"</p> + +<p>Fairy blushed, and caught her under lip between her teeth for a minute. +And then, in a changed voice she said, "I—I do love her, and—I am +glad—but I keep thinking ahead to when Prudence gets married, +and—and—oh, girls, Prudence was all settled in the parsonage when I +was born, and she's been here ever since, and—when she is gone it—it +won't be any home to me at all!"</p> + +<p>Her voice rose on the last words in a way most pitifully suggestive of +tears.</p> + +<p>For a moment there was a stricken silence.</p> + +<p>"Oh, pooh!" Carol said at last, bravely. "You wouldn't want Prue to +stick around and be an old maid, would you? I think she's mighty lucky +to get a fellow as nice as Jerry Harmer myself. I'll bet you don't make +out half as well, Fairy. I think she'd be awfully silly not to gobble +him right up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> while she has a chance. For my own part, I don't believe +in old maids. I think it is a religious duty for folks to get married, +and—and—you know what I mean,—race suicide, you know." She nodded her +head sagely, winking one eye in a most intelligent fashion.</p> + +<p>"And Aunt Grace is so quiet she'll not be any bother at all," added +Lark. "Don't you remember how she always sits around and smiles at us, +and never says anything. She won't scold a bit.—Maybe Carol and I will +get a chance to spend some of our spending money when she takes charge. +Prudence confiscates it all for punishment. I think it's going to be +lots of fun having Aunt Grace with us."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to take my dime and buy her something," Connie announced +suddenly.</p> + +<p>The twins whirled on her sharply. "Your dime!" echoed Carol.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know you had a dime," said Lark.</p> + +<p>Connie flushed a little. "Yes,—Oh, yes,—" she said, "I've got a dime. +I—I hid it. I've got a dime all right."</p> + +<p>"It's nearly time," said Fairy restlessly. "Num<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>ber Nine has been on +time for two mornings now,—so she'll probably be here in time for +dinner. It's only ten o'clock now."</p> + +<p>"You mean luncheon," suggested Carol.</p> + +<p>"Yes, luncheon, to be sure, fair sister."</p> + +<p>"Where'd you get that dime, Connie?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've had it some time," Connie admitted reluctantly.</p> + +<p>"When I asked you to lend me a dime you said—"</p> + +<p>"You asked me if I had a dime I could lend you and I said, No, and I +didn't, for I didn't have this dime to lend."</p> + +<p>"But where have you had it?" inquired Lark. "I thought you acted +suspicious some way, so I went around and looked for myself."</p> + +<p>"Where did you look?"</p> + +<p>The twins laughed gleefully. "Oh, on top of the windows and doors," said +Carol.</p> + +<p>"How did you know—" began Connie.</p> + +<p>"You aren't slick enough for us, Connie. We knew you had some funny +place to hide your money, so I gave you that penny and then I went +up-stairs very noisily so you could hear me, and Lark sneaked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> around +and watched, and saw where you put it. We've been able to keep pretty +good track of your finances lately."</p> + +<p>The twins laughed again.</p> + +<p>"But I looked on the top ledge of all the windows and doors just +yesterday," admitted Lark, "and there was nothing there. Did you put +that dime in the bank?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind," said Connie. "I don't need to tell you. You twins are +too slick for me, you know."</p> + +<p>The twins looked slightly fussed, especially when Fairy laughed with a +merry, "Good for you, Connie."</p> + +<p>Carol rose and looked at herself in the glass. "I'm going up-stairs," +she said.</p> + +<p>"What for?" inquired Lark, rising also.</p> + +<p>"I need a little more powder. My nose is shiny."</p> + +<p>So the twins went up-stairs, and Fairy, after calling out to them to be +very careful and not get disheveled, went out into the yard and wandered +dolefully about by herself.</p> + +<p>Connie meantime decided to get her well-hidden dime and figure out what +ten cents could buy for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> her fastidious and wealthy aunt. Connie was in +many ways unique. Her system of money-hiding was born of nothing less +than genius, prompted by necessity, for the twins were clever as well as +grasping. She did not know they had discovered her plan of banking on +the top ledge of the windows and doors, but having dealt with them long +and bitterly, she knew that in money matters she must give them the +benefit of all her ingenuity. For the last and precious dime, she had +discovered a brand-new hiding-place.</p> + +<p>The cook stove sat in the darkest and most remote corner of the kitchen, +and where the chimney fitted into the wall, it was protected by a small +zinc plate. This zinc plate protruded barely an inch, but that inch was +quite sufficient for coins the size of Connie's, and there, high and +secure in the shadowy corner, lay Connie's dime. Now that she had +decided to spend it, she wanted it before her eyes,—for ten cents in +sight buys much more than ten cents in memory. She went into the kitchen +cautiously, careful of her white canvas shoes, and put a chair beside +the stove. She had discovered that the dishpan turned upside down on the +chair,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> gave her sufficient height to reach her novel banking place. +The preparation was soon accomplished, and neatly, for Connie was an +orderly child, and loved cleanliness even on occasions less demanding +than this.</p> + +<p>But alas for Connie's calculations!—Carol was born for higher things +than dish washing, and she had splashed soap-suds on the table. The pan +had been set among them—and then, neatly wiped on the inside, it had +been hung up behind the table,—with the suds on the bottom. And it was +upon this same dishpan that Connie climbed so carefully in search of her +darling dime.</p> + +<p>The result was certain. As she slowly and breathlessly raised herself on +tiptoe, steadying herself with the tips of her fingers lightly touching +the stove-pipe, her foot moved treacherously into the soapy area, and +slipped. Connie screamed, caught desperately at the pipe, and fell to +the floor in a sickening jumble of stove-pipe, dishpan and soot beyond +her wildest fancies! Her cries brought her sisters flying, and the sight +of the blackened kitchen, and the unfortunate child in the midst of +disaster, banished from their minds all memory of the coming<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> chaperon, +of Prudence's warning words:—Connie was in trouble. With sisterly +affection they rescued her, and did not hear the ringing of the bell. +They brushed her, they shook her, they kissed her, they all but wept +over her. And when Prudence and her father, with Aunt Grace in tow, +despaired of gaining entrance at the hands of the girls, came in +unannounced, it was a sorry scene that greeted them. Fairy and the twins +were only less sooty than Connie and the kitchen. The stove-pipe lay +about them with that insufferable insolence known only to fallen +stove-pipe. And Connie wept loudly, her tears making hideous trails upon +her blackened face.</p> + +<p>"I might have known it," Prudence thought, with sorrow. But her motherly +pride vanished before her motherly solicitude, and Connie was soon +quieted by her tender ministrations.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/gs027.jpg" width="400" height="293" alt="We love you, but we can't kiss you" title="We love you, but we can't kiss you" /> +<span class="caption">We love you, but we can't kiss you</span> +</div> + +<p>"We love you, Aunt Grace," cried Carol earnestly, "but we can't kiss +you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Starr anxiously scanned the surface of the kitchen table with an eye +to future spots on the new suit, and then sat down on the edge of it +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> laughed as only a man of young heart and old experience can laugh!</p> + +<p>"Disgraced again," he said. "Prudence said we <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'make'">made</ins> a mistake in not +taking you all to the station where we could watch you every minute. +Grace, think well before you take the plunge. Do you dare cast in your +fortunes with a parsonage bunch that revels in misfortune? Can you take +the responsibility of rearing a family that knows trouble only? This is +your last chance. Weigh well your words."</p> + +<p>The twins squirmed uncomfortably. True, she was their aunt, and knew +many things about them. But they did think it was almost bad form for +their father to emphasize their failings in the presence of any one +outside the family.</p> + +<p>Fairy pursed up her lips, puffing vainly at the soot that had settled +upon her face. Then she laughed. "Very true, Aunt Grace," she said. "We +admit that we're a luckless family. But we're expecting, with you to +help us, to do much better. You see, we've never had half a chance so +far, with only father behind us."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> + +<p>The twins revived at this, and joined in the laughter their father led +against himself.</p> + +<p>Later in the day Prudence drew her aunt to one side and asked softly, +"Was it much of a shock to you, Aunt Grace? The family drowned in soot +to welcome you? I'm sure you expected to find everything trim and fresh +and orderly. Was it a bitter disappointment?"</p> + +<p>Aunt Grace smiled brightly. "Why, no, Prudence," she said in her slow +even voice. "I really expected something to be wrong! I'd have been +disappointed if everything had gone just right!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>SCIENCE AND HEALTH</h3> + + +<p><big><b>A</b></big>FTER ALL, the advent of a chaperon made surprisingly little difference +in the life of the parsonage family, but what change there was, was all +to the good. Their aunt assumed no active directorate over household +matters. She just slipped in, happily, unobtrusively, helpfully. She was +a gentle woman, smiling much, saying little. Indeed, her untalkativeness +soon became a matter of great merriment among the lively girls.</p> + +<p>"A splendid deaf and dumb person was lost to the world in you, Aunt +Grace," Carol assured her warmly. "I never saw a woman who could say so +much in smiles, and be so expressive without words."</p> + +<p>Fairy said, "She carries on a prolonged discussion, and argues and +orates, without saying a word."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> + +<p>The members of the Ladies' Aid, who hastened to call, said, "She is +perfectly charming—such a fine conversationalist!"</p> + +<p>She was always attractively dressed, always self-possessed, always +friendly, always good-natured, and the girls found her presence only +pleasing. She relieved Prudence, admired Fairy, laughed at the twins, +adored Connie. Between her and Mr. Starr there was a frank camaraderie, +charming, but seldom found between brothers- and sisters-in-law.</p> + +<p>"Of course, Aunt Grace," Prudence told her sweetly, "we aren't going to +be selfish with you. We don't expect you to bury yourself in the +parsonage. Whenever you want to trip away for a while, you must feel +free to go. We don't intend to monopolize you, however much we want to +do so. Whenever you want to go, you must go."</p> + +<p>"I shan't want to go," said Aunt Grace quickly.</p> + +<p>"Not right away, of course," Prudence agreed. "But you'll find our +liveliness tiring. Whenever you do want to go—"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I shall want to go at all," she answered. "I like it +here. I—I like liveliness."</p> + +<p>Then Prudence kissed her gratefully.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<p>For several weeks after her initiation in the parsonage, life rolled +along sweetly and serenely. There were only the minor, unavoidable +mishaps and disciplinary measures common to the life of any family. Of +course, there were frequent, stirring verbal skirmishes between Fairy +and the twins, and between the twins and Connie. But these did not +disturb their aunt. She leaned back in her chair, or among the cushions, +listening gravely, but with eyes that always smiled.</p> + +<p>Then came a curious lull.</p> + +<p>For ten entire and successive days the twins had lived blameless lives. +Their voices rang out gladly and sweetly. They treated Connie with a +sisterly tenderness and gentleness quite out of accord with their usual +drastic discipline. They obeyed the word of Prudence with a cheerful +readiness that was startlingly cherubimic. The most distasteful of +orders called forth nothing stronger than a bright, "Yes, Prudence." +They no longer developed dangerous symptoms of physical disablement at +times of unpleasant duties. Their devotion to the cause of health was +beautiful. Not an ache disturbed them. Not a pain suggested a +substitute.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> + +<p>Prudence watched them with painful solicitude. Her years of mothering +had given her an almost supernatural intuition as to causes, and +effects.</p> + +<p>On Wednesday morning, Mr. Starr bade his family good-by and set out on a +tour of Epworth League conventions. He was to be away from home until +the end of the following week. A prospective Presbyterian theologian had +been selected from the college to fill his pulpit on the Sabbath, and +the girls, with their aunt, faced an unusually long period of running +the parsonage to suit themselves.</p> + +<p>At ten o'clock the train carried their father off in the direction of +Burlington, and at eleven o'clock the twins returned to the parsonage. +They had given him a daughterly send-off at the station, and then gone +to the library for books. Prudence, Fairy and Aunt Grace sat sewing on +the side porch as they cut across the parsonage lawn, their feet +crinkling pleasantly through the drift of autumn leaves the wind had +piled beneath the trees.</p> + +<p>"We're out of potatoes, twins," said Prudence, as they drew near. +"You'll have to dig some before dinner."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> + +<p>For one instant their complacent features clouded. Prudence looked up +expectantly, sure of a break in their serene placidity.</p> + +<p>One doubtful second, then—</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Prudence," said Carol brightly.</p> + +<p>And Lark added genially, "We'd better fill the box, I guess—so we'll +have enough for the rest of the week."</p> + +<p>And singing a light but unharmonic snatch of song, the twins went in +search of basket and hoe.</p> + +<p>The twins were not musical. They only sang from principle, to emphasize +their light-heartedness when it needed special impressing.</p> + +<p>Prudence's brows knitted in anxious frowns, and she sighed a few times.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Prue? You look like a rainy Christmas," said Fairy.</p> + +<p>"It's the twins," was the mournful answer.</p> + +<p>"The twins!" ejaculated Fairy. "Why, they've acted like angels lately."</p> + +<p>Even Aunt Grace lifted mildly inquiring eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"That's it!—That's just it. When the twins act<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> like angels I get +uneasy right away. The better they act, the more suspicious I feel."</p> + +<p>"What have they been doing?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing! Not a thing! That's why I'm worried. It must be something +terrible!"</p> + +<p>Fairy laughed and returned to her embroidery. Aunt Grace smiled and +began plying her needles once more. But Prudence still looked troubled, +and sighed often.</p> + +<p>There was no apparent ground for her alarm. The twins came back with the +potatoes, peeled some for luncheon, and set the table, their faces still +bright and smiling. Prudence's eyes, often fastened upon their angelic +countenances, grew more and more troubled.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon, they joined the little circle on the porch, but not to +sew. They took a book, and lay down on a rug with the book before them, +reading together. Evidently they were all absorbed. An hour passed, two +hours, three. At times Carol pointed to a line, and said in a low voice, +"That's good, isn't it?" And Lark would answer, "Dandy!—Have you read +this?"</p> + +<p>Prudence, in spite of her devotion to the em<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>broidering of large S's on +assorted pieces of linen, never forgot the twins for a moment.</p> + +<p>"What are you reading?" she asked at last aimlessly, her only desire to +be reassured by the sound of their voices.</p> + +<p>There was an almost imperceptible pause. Then Carol answered,—her chin +was in her palms which may have accounted for the mumbling of the words.</p> + +<p>"<i>Scianceanelth.</i>"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>Another pause, a little more perceptible this time. "<i>Science and +Health</i>," Carol said at last, quite distinctly.</p> + +<p>"<i>Science and Health</i>," Prudence repeated, in a puzzled tone. "Is it a +doctor book?"</p> + +<p>"Why—something of the sort,—yes," said Carol dubiously.</p> + +<p>"<i>Science and Health</i>? <i>Science and Health</i>," mused Fairy. "You don't +mean that Christian Science book, do you? You know what I mean, +Prudence—Mary Baker Eddy's book—<i>Science and Health</i>,—that's the name +of it. That's not what you twins are devouring so ravenously, is it?"</p> + +<p>Carol answered with manifest reluctance, glanc<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>ing nervously at +Prudence, "Y-yes,—that's what it is."</p> + +<p>Ominous silence greeted this admission. A slow red flush mantled the +twins' cheeks. Aunt Grace's eyes twinkled a little, although her face +was grave. Fairy looked surprised. Prudence looked dumfounded. When she +spoke, her words gave no sign of the cataclysmic struggle through which +she had passed.</p> + +<p>"What are you reading that for?"</p> + +<p>"Why—it's very interesting," explained Lark, coming to Carol's rescue. +Carol was very good at meeting investigation, but when it came to +prolonged explanation, Lark stood preeminent. "Of course, we don't +believe it—yet. But there are some good things in it. Part of it is +very beautiful. We don't just understand it,—it's very deep. But some +of the ideas are very fine, and—er—uplifting, you know."</p> + +<p>Prudence looked most miserable. "But—twins, do you think—minister's +daughters ought to read—things like that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Prudence, I think minister's daughters ought to be well-informed +on every subject," de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>clared Lark conscientiously. "How can we be an +influence if we don't know anything about things?—And I tell you what +it is, Prue, I don't think it's right for all of us church people to +stand back and knock Christian Science when we don't know anything about +it. It's narrow-minded, that's what it is. It's downright un-Christian. +When you get into the book you will find it just full of fine inspiring +thoughts—something like the Bible,—only—er—and very good, you know."</p> + +<p>Prudence looked at Fairy and her aunt in helpless dismay. This was +something entirely new in her experience of rearing a family.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't think you ought to read it," she said slowly. "But at the +same time—"</p> + +<p>"Of course, if you command us not to read it, we won't," said Carol +generously.</p> + +<p>"Yes. We've already learned quite a lot about it," amended Lark, with +something of warning in her tone.</p> + +<p>"What do you think about it, Aunt Grace?"</p> + +<p>"Why,—I don't know, Prudence. You know more about rearing twins than I +do."</p> + +<p>Prudence at that moment felt that she knew very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> little about it, +indeed. She turned to Fairy. There was a strange intentness in Fairy's +fine eyes as she studied the twins on the floor at her feet.</p> + +<p>"You aren't thinking of turning Christian Scientists, yourselves, are +you?" asked Prudence rather humbly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course, we aren't Scientists, Prudence," was the quick denial. +"We don't know anything about it yet, really. But there are lots of very +helpful things in it, and—people talk about it so much, and—they have +made such wonderful cures, you know, and—we'd thought we'd just study +up a little."</p> + +<p>"You take the book and read it yourself, Prue," urged Carol hospitably. +"You'll see what we mean."</p> + +<p>Prudence drew back quickly as though the book would sear her fingers. +She looked very forlorn. She realized that it would be bad policy to +forbid the twins to read it. On the other hand, she realized equally +strongly that it was certainly unwise to allow its doctrines to take +root in the minds of parsonage daughters. If only her father were at +home,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>—ten days between herself and the lifting of responsibility!</p> + +<p>"When father comes home—" she began. And then suddenly Fairy spoke.</p> + +<p>"I think the twins are right," she said emphatically, and the twins +looked at her with a surprised anxiety that mated Prudence's own. "It +would be very narrow-minded of us to refuse to look into a subject as +important as this. Let them go on and study it; we can decide things +later."</p> + +<p>Prudence looked very doubtful, but a warning movement of Fairy's left +eyelash—the side removed from the twins—comforted her.</p> + +<p>"Well—" she said.</p> + +<p>"Of course, Prudence, we know it would nearly break father's heart for +us to go back on our own church,—but don't you think if folks become +truly convinced that Christian Science is the true and good religion, +they ought to stand by it and suffer,—just like the martyrs of old?" +suggested Lark,—and the suggestion brought the doubt-clouds thick about +Prudence's head once more.</p> + +<p>"We may not be convinced, of course," added<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> Carol, "but there is +something rather—assuring—about it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, twins," Prudence cried earnestly, but stopped as she caught again +the slight suggestive movement of Fairy's left eyelash.</p> + +<p>"Well, let it go for this afternoon," she said, her eyes intent on +Fairy's face. "I must think it over."</p> + +<p>The twins, with apparent relish, returned to their perusal of the book.</p> + +<p>Fairy rose almost immediately and went into the house, coming back a +moment later with her hat and gloves.</p> + +<p>"I'm going for a stroll, Prue," she said. "I'll be back in time for +supper."</p> + +<p>Prudence gazed yearningly after her departing back. She felt a great +need of help in this crisis, and Fairy's nonchalance was sometimes very +soothing. Aunt Grace was a darling, of course, but she had long ago +disclaimed all responsibility for the rearing of the twins.</p> + +<p>It was two hours later when Fairy came back. Prudence was alone on the +porch.</p> + +<p>"Where are the twins?" asked Fairy softly.</p> + +<p>"Up-stairs," was the whispered reply. "Well?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Fairy spoke more loudly, confident that the twins, in their +up-stairs room, could hear every word she said. "Come up-stairs, Prue. I +want to talk this over with you alone." And then she whispered, "Now, +you just take your cue from me, and do as I say. The little sinners! +We'll teach them to be so funny!"</p> + +<p>In their own room she carefully closed the door and smiled, as she noted +a creaking of the closet door on the twins' side of the wall. +Eavesdropping was not included among the cardinal sins in the twins' +private decalogue, when the conversation concerned themselves.</p> + +<p>"Now, Prudence," Fairy began, speaking with an appearance of softness, +though she took great pains to turn her face toward the twins' room, and +enunciated very clearly indeed. "I know this will hurt you, as it does +me, but we've got to face it fairly. If the twins are convinced that +Christian Science is the right kind of religion, we can't stand in their +way. It might turn them from all religion and make them infidels or +atheists, or something worse. Any religion is better than none. I've +been reading up a little myself this afternoon, and there are some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> good +points in Christian Science. Of course, for our sakes and father's, the +twins will be generous and deny that they are Scientists. But at heart, +they are. I saw it this afternoon. And you and I, Prudence, must stand +together and back them up. They'll have to leave the Methodist church. +It may break our hearts, and father's, too, but we can't wrong our +little sisters just for our personal pride and pleasure in them. I think +we'll have them go before the official board next Sunday while father is +gone—then he will be spared the pain of it. I'll speak to Mr. Lauren +about it to-morrow. We must make it as easy for them as we can. They'll +probably dismiss them—I don't suppose they'll give them letters. But it +must be all over before papa comes back."</p> + +<p>Then she hissed in Prudence's ear, "Now cry."</p> + +<p>Prudence obediently began sniffing and gulping, and Fairy rushed to her +and threw her arms about her, sobbing in heart-broken accents, "There, +there, Prue, I know—I felt just the same about it. But we can't stand +between the twins and what they think is right. We daren't have that on +our consciences."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> + +<p>The two wept together, encouraged by the death-like stillness in the +closet on the other side of the wall.</p> + +<p>Then Fairy said, more calmly, though still sobbing occasionally, "For +our sakes, they'll try to deny it. But we can't let the little darlings +sacrifice themselves. They've got to have a chance to try their new +belief. We'll just be firm and insist that they stand on their rights. +We won't mention it to them for a day or two—we'll fix it up with the +official board first. And we must surely get it over by Sunday. Poor old +father—and how he loves—" Fairy indulged in a clever and especially +artistic bit of weeping. Then she regained control of her feelings by an +audible effort. "But it has its good points, Prue. Haven't you noticed +how sweet and sunny and dear the twins have been lately? It was Science +and Health working in them. Oh, Prudence dear, don't cry so."</p> + +<p>Prudence caught her cue again and began weeping afresh. They soothed and +caressed and comforted each other for a while, and then went down-stairs +to finish getting supper.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, the shocked and horrified twins<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> in the closet of their +own room, were clutching each other with passionate intensity. Little +nervous chills set them aquiver, their hands were cold, their faces +throbbing hot. When their sisters had gone down-stairs, they stared at +each other in agony.</p> + +<p>"They—they wo-won't p-p-put us out of the ch-ch-church," gasped Carol.</p> + +<p>"They will," stammered Lark. "You know what Prudence is! She'd put the +whole church out if she thought it would do us any good."</p> + +<p>"Pa-p-pa'll—papa'll—" began Carol, her teeth chattering.</p> + +<p>"They'll do it before he gets back." Then with sudden reproach she +cried, "Oh, Carol, I told you it was wicked to joke about religion."</p> + +<p>This unexpected reproach on the part of her twin brought Carol back to +earth. "Christian Science isn't religion," she declared. "It's not even +good sense, as far's I can make out. I didn't read a word of it, did +you?—I—I just thought it would be such a good joke on Prudence—with +father out of town."</p> + +<p>The good joke was anything but funny now.</p> + +<p>"They can't make us be Scientists if we don't want to," protested Lark. +"They can't. Why, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> wouldn't be anything but a Methodist for anything +on earth. I'd die first."</p> + +<p>"You can't die if you're a Scientist—anyhow, you oughtn't to. Millie +Mains told me—"</p> + +<p>"It's a punishment on us for even looking at the book—good Methodists +like we are. I'll burn it. That's what I'll do."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to pay for it at the library if you do," cautioned frugal +Carol.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll just go and tell Prudence it was a joke,—Prudence is +always reasonable. She won't—"</p> + +<p>"She'll punish us, and—it'll be such a joke on us, Larkie. Even +Connie'll laugh."</p> + +<p>They squirmed together, wretchedly, at that.</p> + +<p>"We'll tell them we have decided it is false."</p> + +<p>"They said we'd probably do that for their sakes."</p> + +<p>"It—it was a good joke while it lasted," said Carol, with a very faint +shadow of a smile. "Don't you remember how Prudence gasped? She kept her +mouth open for five minutes!"</p> + +<p>"It's still a joke," added Lark gloomily, "but it's on us."</p> + +<p>"They can't put us out of the church!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't know. You know we Methodists are pretty set! Like as not +they'll say we'd be a bad influence among the members."</p> + +<p>"Twins!"</p> + +<p>The call outside their door sounded like the trump of doom to the +conscience-smitten twins, and they clutched each other, startled, crying +out. Then, sheepishly, they stepped out of the closet to find Fairy +regarding them quizzically from the doorway. She repressed a smile with +difficulty, as she said quietly:</p> + +<p>"I was just talking to Mrs. Mains over the phone. She's going to a +Christian Science lecture to-night, and she said she wished I wasn't a +minister's daughter and she'd ask me to go along. I told her I didn't +care to, but said you twins would enjoy it. She'll be here in the car +for you at seven forty-five."</p> + +<p>"I won't go," cried Carol. "I won't go near their old church."</p> + +<p>"You won't go." Fairy was astonished. "Why—I told her you would be glad +to go."</p> + +<p>"I won't," repeated Carol, with nervous passion. "I will not. You can't +make me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lark shook her head in corroborative denial.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's queer." Fairy frowned, then she smiled.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, to the tempest-tossed and troubled twins, the tall splendid +Fairy seemed a haven of refuge. Her eyes were very kind. Her smile was +sweet. And with a cry of relief, and shame, and fear, the twins plunged +upon her and told their little tale.</p> + +<p>"You punish us this time, Fairy," begged Carol. "We—we don't want the +rest of the family to know. We'll take any kind of punishment, but keep +it dark, won't you? Prudence will soon forget, she's so awfully full of +Jerry these days."</p> + +<p>"I'll talk it over with Prudence," said Fairy. "But—I think we'll have +to tell the family."</p> + +<p>Lark moved her feet restlessly. "Well, you needn't tell Connie," she +said. "Having the laugh come back on us is the very meanest kind of a +punishment."</p> + +<p>Fairy looked at them a moment, wondering if, indeed, their punishment +had been sufficient.</p> + +<p>"Well, little twins," she said, "I guess I will take charge of this +myself. Here is your punishment."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> She stood up again, and looked down +at them with sparkling eyes as they gazed at her expectantly.</p> + +<p>"We caught on that it was a joke. We knew you were listening in the +closet. And Prudence and I acted our little parts to give you one good +scare. Who's the laugh on now? Are we square? Supper's ready." And Fairy +ran down-stairs, laughing, followed by two entirely abashed and humbled +twins.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>A GIFT FROM HEAVEN</h3> + + +<p><big><b>T</b></big>HE first of April in the Mount Mark parsonage was a time of trial and +tribulation, frequently to the extent of weeping and gnashing of teeth. +The twins were no respecters of persons, and feeling that the first of +April rendered all things justifiable to all men, they made life as +burdensome to their father as to Connie, and Fairy and Prudence lived in +a state of perpetual anguish until the twins fell asleep at night well +satisfied but worn out with the day's activities. The twins were +bordering closely to the first stage of grown-up womanhood, but on the +first of April they swore they would always be young! The tricks were +more dignified, more carefully planned and scientifically executed than +in the days of their rollicking girlhood,—but they were all the more +heart-breaking on that account.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> + +<p>The week before the first was spent by Connie in a vain effort to ferret +out their plans in order that fore-knowledge might suggest a sufficient +safe-guard. The twins, however, were too clever to permit this, and +their bloody schemes were wrapped in mystery and buried in secrecy. On +the thirty-first of March, Connie labored like a plumber would if +working by the job. She painstakingly hid from sight all her cherished +possessions. The twins were in the barn, presumably deep in plots. Aunt +Grace was at the Ladies' Aid. So when Fairy came in, about four in the +afternoon, there was only Prudence to note the vengeful glitter in her +fine clear eyes. And Prudence was so intent upon feather-stitching the +hems of pink-checked dish towels, that she did not observe it.</p> + +<p>"Where's papa?" Fairy asked.</p> + +<p>"Up-stairs."</p> + +<p>"Where are the twins?"</p> + +<p>"In the barn, getting ready for THE DAY."</p> + +<p>Fairy smiled delightfully and skipped eagerly up the stairs. She was +closeted with her father for some time, and came out of his room at last +with a small coin carefully concealed in the corner of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> her +handkerchief. She did not remove her hat, but set briskly out toward +town again.</p> + +<p>Prudence, startled out of her feather-stitching, followed her to the +door. "Why, Fairy," she called. "Are you going out again?"</p> + +<p>Fairy threw out her hands. "So it seems. An errand for papa." She lifted +her brows and pursed up her lips, and the wicked joy in her face pierced +the mantle of Prudence's absorption again.</p> + +<p>"What's up?" she questioned curiously, following her sister down the +steps.</p> + +<p>Fairy looked about hurriedly, and then whispered a few words of +explanation. Prudence's look changed to one of unnaturally spiteful +glee.</p> + +<p>"Good! Fine! Serves 'em right! You'd better hurry."</p> + +<p>"Tell Aunt Grace, will you? But don't let Connie in until morning. She'd +give it away."</p> + +<p>At supper-time Fairy returned, and the twins, their eyes bright with the +unholy light of mischief, never looked at her. They sometimes looked +heavenward with a sublime contentment that drove Connie nearly frantic. +Occasionally they uttered cryptic words about the morrow,—and the +older<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> members of the family smiled pleasantly, but Connie shuddered. +She remembered so many April Fool's Days.</p> + +<p>The family usually clung together on occasions of this kind, feeling +there was safety and sympathy in numbers—as so many cowards have felt +for lo, these many years. And thus it happened that they were all in the +dining-room when their father appeared at the door. He had his hands +behind him suggestively.</p> + +<p>"Twins," he said, without preamble, "what do you want more than anything +else?"</p> + +<p>"Silk stockings," was the prompt and unanimous answer.</p> + +<p>He laughed. "Good guess, wasn't it?" And tossed into their eager hands +two slender boxes, nicely wrapped. The others gathered about them with +smiling eyes as the twins tremulously tore off the wrappings.</p> + +<p>"A. Phoole's Pure Silk Thread Hose,—Guaranteed!" This they read from +the box—neat golden lettering. It was enough for the twins. With cries +of perfect bliss they flung themselves upon their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> father, kissing him +rapturously wherever their lips might touch.</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa!" "Oh, you darling!" And then, when they had some sort of +control of their joy, Lark said solemnly, "Papa, it is a gift from +Heaven!"</p> + +<p>"Of course, we give you the credit, papa," Carol amended quickly, "but +the thought was Heaven-prompted."</p> + +<p>Fairy choked suddenly, and her fit of coughing interfered with the +twins' gratitude to an all-suggesting Providence!</p> + +<p>Carol twisted her box nervously. "You know, papa, it may seem very +childish, and—silly to you, but—actually—we have—well, prayed for +silk stockings. We didn't honestly expect to get them, though—not until +we saved up money enough to get them ourselves. Heaven is kinder to us +than we—"</p> + +<p>"You can't understand such things, papa," said Lark. "Maybe you don't +know exactly how—how they feel. When we go to Betty Hill's we wear her +silk stockings and lie on the bed—and—she won't let us walk in them, +for fear we may wear holes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> Every girl in our class has at least one +pair,—Betty has three, but one pair's holey, and—we felt so awfully +poor!"</p> + +<p>The smiles on the family faces were rather stereotyped by this time, but +the exulting twins did not notice. Lark looked at Carol fondly. Carol +sighed at Lark blissfully. Then, with one accord, they lifted the covers +from the boxes and drew out the shimmering hose. +Yes,—shimmering—but—they shook them out for inspection! Their faces +paled a little.</p> + +<p>"They—they are very—" began Carol courageously. Then she stopped.</p> + +<p>The hose were a fine tissue-paper imitation of silk stockings! The +"April Fool, little twins," on the toes was not necessary for their +enlightenment. They looked at their father with sad but unresentful +reproach in their swiftly shadowed eyes.</p> + +<p>"It—it's a good joke," stammered Carol, moistening her dry lips with +her tongue.</p> + +<p>"It's—one on us," blurted Lark promptly.</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha, ha," laughed Carol, slowly, dryly, very dully.</p> + +<p>"Yes—ha, ha, ha," echoed Lark, placing the bit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>ter fruit carefully back +in its box. Her fingers actually trembled.</p> + +<p>"It's a—swell joke, all right," Carol said, "we see that well +enough,—we're not stupid, you know. But we did want some silk stockings +so—awfully bad. But it's funny, ha, ha, ha!"</p> + +<p>"A gift from Heaven!" muttered Lark, with clenched teeth. "Well, you got +us that time."</p> + +<p>"Come on, Lark, we must put them sacredly away—Silk stockings, you +know, are mighty scarce in a parsonage,—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ha, ha, ha," and the crushed and broken twins left the room, with +dignity in spite of the blow.</p> + +<p>The family did not enjoy the joke on the twins.</p> + +<p>Mr. Starr looked at the others with all a man's confused incomprehension +of a woman's notions! He spread out his hands—an orthodox, ministerial +gesture!</p> + +<p>"Now, will some one kindly tell me what there is in silk stockings, +to—" He shook his head helplessly. "Silk stockings! A gift from +Heaven!" He smiled, unmerrily. "The poor little kids!" Then he left the +room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>Aunt Grace openly wiped her eyes, smiling at herself as she did so.</p> + +<p>Fairy opened and closed her lips several times. Then she spoke. "Say, +Prue, knock me down and sit on me, will you? Whatever made me think of +such a stupid trick as that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, bless their little hearts," whispered Prudence, sniffing. "Didn't +they look sorry? But they were so determined to be game."</p> + +<p>"Prudence, give me my eight cents," demanded Connie. "I want it right +away."</p> + +<p>"What do you want it for?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going down to Morrow's and get some candy. I never saw a meaner +trick in my life! I'm surprised at papa. The twins only play jokes for +fun." And Connie stalked grimly out of the parsonage and off toward +town.</p> + +<p>A more abashed and downcast pair of twins probably never lived. They sat +thoughtfully in their room, "A. Phoole's Silk Thread Hose" carefully +hidden from their hurt eyes.</p> + +<p>"It was a good joke," Lark said, now and then.</p> + +<p>"Yes, very," assented Carol. "But silk stockings, Larkie!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>And Lark squirmed wretchedly. "A gift from Heaven," she mourned. "How +they must be laughing!"</p> + +<p>But they did not laugh.</p> + +<p>Connie came back and shared her candy. They thanked her courteously and +invited her to sit down. Then they all ate candy and grieved together +silently. They did not speak of the morning's disaster, but the twins +understood and appreciated the tender sympathy of her attitude, and +although they said nothing, they looked at her very kindly and Connie +was well content.</p> + +<p>The morning passed drearily. The twins had lost all relish for their +well-planned tricks, and the others, down-stairs, found the usually wild +and hilarious day almost unbearably poky. Prudence's voice was gentle as +she called them down to dinner, and the twins, determined not to show +the white feather, went down at once and took their places. They bore +their trouble bravely, but their eyes had the surprised and stricken +look, and their faces were nearly old. Mr. Starr cut the blessing short, +and the dinner was eaten in silence. The twins tried to start the +conversation. They talked of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> weather with passionate devotion. They +discussed their studies with an almost unbelievable enthusiasm. They +even referred, with stiff smiles, to "papa's good joke," and then +laughed their dreary "ha, ha, ha," until their father wanted to fall +upon his knees and beg forgiveness.</p> + +<p>Connie, still solicitous, helped them wash the dishes. The others +disappeared. Fairy got her hat and went out without a word. Their father +followed scarcely a block behind her. Aunt Grace sought all over the +house for Prudence, and finally found her in the attic, comforting +herself with a view of the lovely linens which filled her Hope Box.</p> + +<p>"I'm going for a walk," announced Aunt Grace briefly.</p> + +<p>"All right," assented Prudence. "If I'm not here when you get back, +don't worry. I'm going for a walk myself."</p> + +<p>Their work done irreproachably, the twins and Connie went to the haymow +and lay on the hay, still silent. The twins, buoyant though they were, +could not so quickly recover from a shock like this. So intent were they +upon the shadows among the cobwebs that they heard no sound from below +un<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>til their father's head appeared at the top of the ladder.</p> + +<p>"Come up," they invited hospitably but seriously.</p> + +<p>He did so at once, and stood before them, his face rather flushed, his +manner a little constrained, but looking rather satisfied with himself +on the whole.</p> + +<p>"Twins," he said, "I didn't know you were so crazy about silk stockings. +We just thought it would be a good joke—but it was a little too good. +It was a boomerang. I don't know when I've felt so contemptible. So I +went down and got you some real silk stockings—a dollar and a half a +pair,—and I'm glad to clear my conscience so easily."</p> + +<p>The twins blushed. "It—it was a good joke, papa," Carol assured him +shyly. "It was a dandy. But—all the girls at school have silk stockings +for best, and—we've been wanting them—forever. And—honestly, father, +I don't know when I've had such a—such a spell of indigestion as when I +saw those stockings were April Fool."</p> + +<p>"Indigestion," scoffed Connie, restored to normal by her father's +handsome amends.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, indigestion," declared Lark. "You know, papa, that funny, hollow, +hungry feeling—when you get a shock. That's nervous indigestion,—we +read it in a medicine ad. They've got pills for it. But it was a good +joke. We saw that right at the start."</p> + +<p>"And we didn't expect anything like this. It—is very generous of you, +papa. Very!"</p> + +<p>But he noticed that they made no move to unwrap the box. It still lay +between them on the hay, where he had tossed it. Evidently their +confidence in him had been severely shattered.</p> + +<p>He sat down and unwrapped it himself. "They are guaranteed," he +explained, passing out the little pink slips gravely, "so when they wear +holes you get another pair for nothing." The twins' faces had brightened +wonderfully. "I will never play that kind of a trick again, twins, so +you needn't be suspicious of me. And say! Whenever you want anything so +badly it makes you feel like that, come and talk it over. We'll manage +some way. Of course, we're always a little hard up, but we can generally +scrape up something extra from somewhere. And we will. You mustn't—feel +like that—about things. Just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> tell me about it. Girls are so—kind of +funny, you know."</p> + +<p>The twins and Connie rushed to the house to try the "feel" of the first, +adored silk stockings. They donned them, admired them, petted Connie, +idolized their father, and then removing them, tied them carefully in +clean white tissue-paper and deposited them in the safest corner of the +bottom drawer of their dresser. Then they lay back on the bed, thinking +happily of the next class party! Silk stockings! Ah!</p> + +<p>"Can't you just imagine how we'll look in our new white dresses, Lark, +and our patent leather pumps,—with silk stockings! I really feel there +is nothing sets off a good complexion as well as real silk stockings!"</p> + +<p>They were interrupted in this delightful occupation by the entrance of +Fairy. The twins had quickly realized that the suggestion for their +humiliating had come from her, and their hearts were sore, but being +good losers—at least, as good losers as real live folks can be—they +wouldn't have admitted it for the world.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come on in, Fairy," said Lark cordially. "Aren't we lazy to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Twins," said Fairy, self-conscious for the first time in the twins' +knowledge of her, "I suppose you know it was I who suggested that +idiotic little stocking stunt. It was awfully hateful of me, and so I +bought you some real silk stockings with my own spending money, and here +they are, and you needn't thank me for I never could be fond of myself +again until I squared things with you."</p> + +<p>The twins had to admit that it was really splendid of Fairy, and they +thanked her with unfeigned zeal.</p> + +<p>"But papa already got us a pair, and so you can take these back and get +your money again. It was just as sweet of you, Fairy, and we thank you, +and it was perfectly dear and darling, but we have papa's now, and—"</p> + +<p>"Good for papa!" Fairy cried, and burst out laughing at the joke that +proved so expensive for the perpetrators. "But you shall have my burnt +offering, too. It serves us both right, but especially me, for it was my +idea."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>And Fairy walked away feeling very gratified and generous.</p> + +<p>Only girls who have wanted silk stockings for a "whole lifetime" can +realize the blissful state of the parsonage twins. They lay on the bed +planning the most impossible but magnificent things they would do to +show their gratitude, and when Aunt Grace stopped at their door they +leaped up to overwhelm her with caresses just because of their gladness.</p> + +<p>She waved them away with a laugh. "April Fool, twins," she said, with a +voice so soft that it took all the sting from the words. "I brought you +some real silk stockings for a change." And she tossed them a package +and started out of the room to escape their thanks. But she stopped in +surprise when the girls burst into merry laughter.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you silk stockings!" Carol cried. "Three pairs! You darling sweet +old auntie! You would come up here to tease us, would you? But papa gave +us a pair, and Fairy gave us a pair, and—"</p> + +<p>"They did! Why, the silly things!" And the gentle woman looked as +seriously vexed as she ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> did look—she had so wanted to give them +the first silk-stocking experience herself.</p> + +<p>"Oh, here you are," cried Prudence, stepping quickly in, and speaking +very brightly to counterbalance the gloom she had expected to encounter. +She started back in some dismay when she saw the twins rolling and +rocking with laughter, and Aunt Grace leaning against the dresser for +support, with Connie on the floor, quite speechless.</p> + +<p>"Good for you, twins,—that's the way to take hard knocks," she said. +"It wasn't a very nice trick, though of course papa didn't understand +how you felt about silk stockings. It wasn't his fault. But Fairy and I +ought to be ashamed, and we are. I went out and got you some real +genuine silk ones myself, so you needn't pray for them any more."</p> + +<p>Prudence was shocked, a little hurt, at the outburst that followed her +words.</p> + +<p>"Well, such a family!" Aunt Grace exclaimed. And then Carol pulled her +bodily down beside her on the bed and for a time they were all incapable +of explanations.</p> + +<p>"What is the joke?" Prudence asked, again and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> again, smiling,—but +still feeling a little pique. She had counted on gladdening their sorry +little hearts!</p> + +<p>"Stockings, stockings—Oh, such a family!" shrieked Carol.</p> + +<p>"There's no playing jokes on the twins," said Aunt Grace weakly. "It +takes the whole family to square up. It's too expensive."</p> + +<p>Then Lark explained, and Prudence sat down and joined the merriment, +which waxed so noisy that Mr. Starr from the library and Fairy from the +kitchen, ran in to investigate.</p> + +<p>"April Fool, April Fool," cried Carol, "We never played a trick like +this, Larkie—this is our masterpiece."</p> + +<p>"You're the nicest old things that ever lived," said Lark, still +laughing, but with great warmth and tenderness in her eyes and her +voice. "But you can take the stockings back and save your money if you +like—we love you just as much."</p> + +<p>But this the happy donors stoutly refused to do. The twins had earned +this wealth of hose, and finally, wiping their eyes, the twins began to +smooth their hair and adjust their ribbons and belts.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" "Where are you going?" "Will you buy the rest of us +some silk stockings?" queried the family, comic-opera effect.</p> + +<p>"Where are we going?" Carol repeated, surprised, seeming to feel that +any one should know where they were going, though they had not spoken.</p> + +<p>"We're going to call on our friends, of course," explained Lark.</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Carol, jabbing her hair pins in with startling energy. +"And we've got to hurry. We must go to Mattie's, and Jean's, and +Betty's, and Fan's, and Birdie's, and Alice's, and—say, Lark, maybe +we'd better divide up and each take half. It's kind of late,—and we +mustn't miss any."</p> + +<p>"Well, what on earth!" gasped Prudence, while the others stared in +speechless amazement.</p> + +<p>"For goodness' sake, Carol, hurry. We have to get clear out to Minnie's +to-night, if we miss our supper."</p> + +<p>"But what's the idea? What for? What are you talking about?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you silly thing," said Carol patiently, "we have to go and tell +our friends that we've got four pairs of silk stockings, of course. I +wouldn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> miss this afternoon for the world. And we'll go the rounds +together, Lark. I want to see how they take it," she smiled at them +benignly. "I can imagine their excitement. And we owe it to the world to +give it all the excitement we can. Prudence says so."</p> + +<p>Prudence looked startled. "Did I say that?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. You said pleasure—but excitement's very pleasing, most of +the time. Come on, Larkie, we'll have to walk fast."</p> + +<p>And with a fond good-by to the generous family, the twins set out to +spread the joyful tidings, Lark pausing at the door just long enough to +explain gravely, "Of course, we won't tell them—er—just how it +happened, you know. Lots of things in a parsonage need to be kept dark. +Prudence says so herself."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>HOW CAROL SPOILED THE WEDDING</h3> + + +<p><big><b>A</b></big> DAY in June,—the kind of day that poets have rhymed and lovers have +craved since time began. On the side porch of the parsonage, in a wide +hammock, lay Aunt Grace, looking languidly through half-closed lids at +the girls beneath her on the step. Prudence, although her face was all +a-dream, bent conscientiously over the bit of linen in her hands. And +Fairy, her piquantly bright features clouded with an unwonted frown, +crumpled a letter in her hand.</p> + +<p>"I do think men are the most aggravating things that ever lived," she +declared, with annoyance in her voice.</p> + +<p>The woman in the hammock smiled slightly, and did not speak. Prudence +carefully counted ten threads, and solemnly drew one before she voiced +her question.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What is he saying now?"</p> + +<p>"Why, he's still objecting to my having dates with the other boys." +Fairy's voice was vibrant with grief. "He does make me wild! Aunt Grace, +you can't imagine. Last fall I mentioned casually that I was sure he +wouldn't object to my having lecture course dates—I was too hard up to +buy a ticket for myself; they cost four dollars, and aren't worth it, +either. And what did he do but send me eight dollars to buy two sets of +tickets! Then this spring, when the baseball season opened, he sent me +season tickets to all the games suggesting that my financial stringency +could not be pleaded as an excuse. Ever since he went to Chicago last +fall we've been fighting because the boys bring me home from parties. I +suppose he had to go and learn to be a pharmacist, but—it's hard on me. +He wants me to patter along by myself like a—like—like a hen!" Fairy +said "hen" very crossly!</p> + +<p>"It's a shame," said Prudence sympathetically. "That's just what it is. +You wouldn't say a word to his taking girls home from things, would +you?"</p> + +<p>"Hum,—that's a different matter," said Fairy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> more thoughtfully. "He +hasn't wanted to yet. You see, he's a man and can go by himself without +having it look as though nobody wanted to be seen with him. And he's a +stranger over there, and doesn't need to get chummy with the girls. The +boys here all know me, and ask me to go, and—a man, you see, can just +be passive and nothing happens. But a girl's got to be downright +negative, and it's no joke. One misses so many good times. You see the +cases are different, Prue."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's so," Prudence assented absent-mindedly, counting off ten +more threads.</p> + +<p>"Then you would object if he had dates?" queried Aunt Grace smilingly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, not at all,—if there was any occasion for it—but there isn't. +And I think I would be justified in objecting if he deliberately made +occasions for himself, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that would be different," Prudence chimed in, such "miles away" in +her voice, that Fairy turned on her indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Prudence Starr, you make me wild," she said. "Can't you drop that +everlasting hemstitching, embroidering, tatting, crocheting, for ten +minutes to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> talk to me? What in the world are you going to do with it +all, anyhow? Are you intending to carpet your floors with it?"</p> + +<p>"This is a napkin," Prudence explained good-naturedly. "The set cost me +fifteen dollars." She sighed.</p> + +<p>"Did the veil come?" The clouds vanished magically from Fairy's face, +and she leaned forward with that joy of wedding anticipation that rules +in woman-world.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's beautiful. Come and see it. Wait until I pull four more +threads. It's gorgeous."</p> + +<p>"I still think you're making a great mistake," declared <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Fairly'">Fairy</ins> earnestly. +"I don't believe in big showy church weddings. You'd better change it +yet. A little home affair with just the family,—that's the way to do +it. All this satin-gown, orange-blossom elaboration with curious eyes +staring up and down—ugh! It's all wrong."</p> + +<p>Prudence dropped the precious fifteen-dollar-a-set napkin in her lap and +gazed at Fairy anxiously. "I know you think so, Fairy," she said. +"You've told me so several times." Fairy's eyes twinkled, but Prudence +had no intention of sarcasm. "But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> I can't help it, can I? We had quite +settled on the home wedding, but when the twins discovered that the +members felt hurt at being left out, father thought we'd better change +over."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't see that the members have any right to run our wedding. +Besides, it wouldn't surprise me if the twins made it up because they +wanted a big fuss."</p> + +<p>"But some of the members spoke to father."</p> + +<p>"Oh, just common members that don't count for much—and it was mighty +poor manners of 'em, too, if you'll excuse me for saying so."</p> + +<p>"And you must admit, Fairy, that it is lovely of the Ladies' Aid to give +that dinner at the hotel for us."</p> + +<p>"Well, they'll get their money's worth of talk out of it afterward. It's +a big mistake.—What on earth are the twins doing out there? Is that Jim +Forrest with them? Listen how they are screaming with laughter! Would +you ever believe those twins are past fifteen, and nearly through their +junior year? They haven't as much sense put together as Connie has all +alone."</p> + +<p>"Come and see the veil," said Prudence, rising.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> But she dropped back on +the step again as Carol came rushing toward them at full speed, with +Lark and a tall young fellow trailing slowly, laughing, behind her.</p> + +<p>"The mean things!" she gasped. "They cheated!" She dropped a handful of +pennies in her aunt's lap as she lay in the hammock. "We'll take 'em to +Sunday-school and give 'em to the heathen, that's what we'll do. They +cheated!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, infant, who cheated, and how, and why? And whence the startling +array of pennies? And why this unwonted affection for the heathen?" +mocked Fairy.</p> + +<p>"Trying to be a blank verse, Fairy? Keep it up, you haven't far to +go!—There they are! Look at them, Aunt Grace. They cheated. They tried +to get all my hard-earned pennies by nefarious methods, and—"</p> + +<p>"And so Carol stole them all, and ran! Sit down, Jim. My, it's hot. Give +me back my pennies, Carol."</p> + +<p>"The heathen! The heathen!" insisted Carol. "Not a penny do you get. You +see, Aunt Grace, we were matching pennies,—you'd better not men<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>tion it +to father. We've turned over a new leaf now, and quit for good. But we +were matching—and they made a bargain that whenever it was my turn, one +of them would throw heads and one tails, and that way I never could win +anything. And I didn't catch on until I saw Jim wink, and so of course I +thought it was only right to give the pennies to the heathen."</p> + +<p>"Mercy, Prudence," interrupted Lark. "Are you doing another napkin? This +is the sixteenth dozen, isn't it? You'd better donate some of them to +the parsonage, I think. I was so ashamed when Miss Marsden came to +dinner. She opened her napkin out wide, and her finger went right +through a hole. I was mortified to death—and Carol laughed. It seems to +me with three grown women in the house we could have holeless napkins, +one for company, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"How is your mother, Jim?"</p> + +<p>"Just fine, Miss Prudence, thank you. She said to tell you she would +send a basket of red Junes to-morrow, if you want them. The twins can +eat them, I know. Carol ate twenty-two when they were out Saturday."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, I did, and I'm glad of it," said Carol stoutly. "Such apples you +never saw, Prudence. They're about as big as a thimble, and two-thirds +core. They're good, they're fine, I'll say that,—but there's nothing to +them. I could have eaten as many again if Jim hadn't been counting out +loud, and I got kind of ashamed because every one was laughing. If I had +a ranch as big as yours, Jim, I'll bet you a dollar I'd have apples +bigger than a dime!"</p> + +<p>"'Bet you a dollar,'" quoted Fairy.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll wager my soul, if that sounds more like Shakespeare. Don't +go, Jim, we're not fighting. This is just the way Fairy and I make love +to each other. You're perfectly welcome to stay, but be careful of your +grammar, for now that Fairy's a senior—will be next year, if she +lives—she even tries to teach father the approved method of doing a +ministerial sneeze in the pulpit."</p> + +<p>"Think I'd better go," decided the tall good-looking youth, laughing as +he looked with frank boyish admiration into Carol's sparkling face. +"With Fairy after my grammar, and you to criticize my manner and my +morals, I see right now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> that a parsonage is no safe place for a +farmer's son." And laughing again, he thrust his cap into his pocket, +and walked quickly out the new cement parsonage walk. But at the gate he +paused to call back, "Don't make a mistake, Carol, and use the heathen's +pennies for candy."</p> + +<p>The girls on the porch laughed, and five pairs of eyes gazed after the +tall figure rapidly disappearing.</p> + +<p>"He's nice," said Prudence.</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented Carol. "I've got a notion to marry him after a little. +That farm of his is worth about ten thousand."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to wait until he asks you?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not! Anybody can marry a man after he asks her. The thing to +do, if you want to be really original and interesting, is to marry him +before he asks you and surprise him."</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed Lark, "if you wait until he asks you he's likely to think +it over once too often and not ask you at all."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't that sound exactly like a book, now?" demanded Carol proudly. +"Fairy couldn't have said that!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," said Fairy, "I couldn't. Thank goodness!—I have what is commonly +known as brains. Look it up in the dictionary, twins. It's something you +ought to know about."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Prudence," cried Lark dramatically, "I forgot to tell you. You +can't get married after all."</p> + +<p>For ten seconds Prudence, as well as Fairy and their aunt, stared in +speechless amazement. Then Prudence smiled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, can't I? What's the joke now?"</p> + +<p>"Joke! It's no joke. Carol's sick, that's what's the joke. You can't be +married without Carol, can you?"</p> + +<p>A burst of gay laughter greeted this announcement.</p> + +<p>"Carol sick! She acts sick!"</p> + +<p>"She looks sick!"</p> + +<p>"Where is she sick?"</p> + +<p>Carol leaned limply back against the pillar, trying to compose her +bright face into a semblance of illness. "In my tummy," she announced +weakly.</p> + +<p>This called forth more laughter. "It's her conscience," said Fairy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's matching pennies. Maybe she swallowed one."</p> + +<p>"It's probably those two pieces of pie she ate for dinner, and the one +that vanished from the pantry shortly after," suggested Aunt Grace.</p> + +<p>Carol sat up quickly. "Welcome home, Aunt Grace!" she cried. "Did you +have a pleasant visit?"</p> + +<p>"Carol," reproved Prudence.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean it for impudence, auntie," said Carol, getting up and +bending affectionately over the hammock, gently caressing the brown hair +just beginning to silver about her forehead. "But it does amuse me so to +hear a lady of your age and dignity indulge in such lavish +conversational exercises."</p> + +<p>Lark swallowed with a forced effort. "Did it hurt, Carol? How did you +get it all out in one breath?"</p> + +<p>"Lark, I do wish you wouldn't gulp that way when folks use big words," +said Fairy. "It looks—awful."</p> + +<p>"Well, I won't when I get to be as old and crabbed as—father," said +Lark. "Sit down, Carol, and remember you're sick."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> + +<p>Carol obediently sat down, and looked sicker than ever.</p> + +<p>"You can laugh if you like," she said, "I am sick, at least, I was this +afternoon. I've been feeling very queer for three or four days. I don't +think I'm quite over it yet."</p> + +<p>"Pie! You were right, Aunt Grace! That's the way pie works."</p> + +<p>"It's not pie at all," declared Carol heatedly. "And I didn't take that +piece out of the pantry, at least, not exactly. I caught Connie sneaking +it, and I gave her a good calling down, and she hung her head and slunk +away in disgrace. But she had taken such big bites that it looked sort +of unsanitary, so I thought I'd better finish it before it gathered any +germs. But it's not pie. Now that I think of it, it was my head where I +was sick. Don't you remember, Lark, I said my head ached?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and her eyes got red and bleary when she was reading. And—and +there was something else, too, Carol, what—"</p> + +<p>"Your eyes are bloodshot, Carol. They do look bad." Prudence examined +them closely. "Now,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> Carol Starr, don't you touch another book or +magazine until after the wedding. If you think I want a bloodshot +bridesmaid, you're mistaken."</p> + +<p>They all turned to look across the yard at Connie, just turning in. +Connie always walked, as Carol said, "as if she mostly wasn't there." +But she usually "arrived" by the time she got within speaking distance +of her sister.</p> + +<p>"Goodness, Prue, aren't you going to do anything but eat after you move +to Des Moines? Carol and I were counting the napkins last night,—was it +a hundred and seventy-six, Carol, or—some awful number I know. Carol +piled them up in two piles and we kneeled on them to say our prayers, +and—I can't say for sure, but I think Carol pushed me. Anyhow, I lost +my balance, and usually I'm pretty well balanced. I toppled over right +after 'God save,' and Carol screamed 'the napkins'—Prue's wedding +napkins! It was an awful funny effect; I couldn't finish my prayers."</p> + +<p>"Carol Starr! Fifteen years old and—"</p> + +<p>"That's a very much exaggerated story, Prue. Connie blamed it on me as +usual. She piled them up herself to see if there were two feet of +them,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>—she put her stockings on the floor first so the dust wouldn't +rub off. It was Lark's turn to sweep and you know how Lark sweeps, and +Connie was very careful, indeed, and—"</p> + +<p>"Come on, Fairy, and see the veil!"</p> + +<p>"The veil! Did it come?"</p> + +<p>With a joyous undignified whoop the parsonage girls scrambled to their +feet and rushed indoors in a fine Kilkenny jumble. Aunt Grace looked +after them, thoughtfully, smiling for a second, and then with a girlish +shrug of her slender shoulders she slipped out and followed them inside.</p> + +<p>The last thing that night, before she said her prayers, Prudence carried +a big bottle of witch hazel into the twins' room. Both were sleeping, +but she roused Carol, and Lark turned over to listen.</p> + +<p>"You must bathe your eyes with this, Carol. I forgot to tell you. What +would Jerry say if he had a bleary-eyed bridesmaid!"</p> + +<p>And although the twins grumbled and mumbled about the idiotic nonsense +of getting-married folks, Carol obediently bathed the bloodshot eyes. +For in their heart of hearts, every one of the parsonage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> girls held +this wedding to be the affair of prime importance, national and +international, as well as just plain Methodist.</p> + +<p>The twins were undeniably lazy, and slept as late of mornings as the +parsonage law allowed. So it was that when Lark skipped into the +dining-room, three minutes late for breakfast, she found the whole +family, with the exception of Carol, well in the midst of their meal.</p> + +<p>"She was sick," she began quickly, then interrupting herself,—"Oh, good +morning! Beg pardon for forgetting my manners. But Carol was sick, +Prudence, and I hope you and Fairy are ashamed of yourselves—and +auntie, too—for making fun of her. She couldn't sleep all night, and +rolled and tossed, and her head hurt and she talked in her sleep, and—"</p> + +<p>"I thought she didn't sleep."</p> + +<p>"Well, she didn't sleep much, but when she did she mumbled and said +things and—"</p> + +<p>Then the dining-room door opened again, and Carol—her hair about her +shoulders, her feet bare, <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'envoleped'">enveloped</ins> in a soft and clinging kimono of +faded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> blue—stalked majestically into the room. There was woe in her +eyes, and her voice was tragic.</p> + +<p>"It is gone," she said. "It is gone!"</p> + +<p>Her appearance was uncanny to say the least, and the family gazed at her +with some concern, despite the fact that Carol's vagaries were so common +as usually to elicit small respect.</p> + +<p>"Gone!" she cried, striking her palms together. "Gone!"</p> + +<p>"If you do anything to spoil that wedding, papa'll whip you, if you are +fifteen years old," said Fairy.</p> + +<p>Lark sprang to her sister's side. "What's gone, Carrie?" she pleaded +with sympathy, almost with tears. "What's gone? Are you out of your +head?"</p> + +<p>"No! Out of my complexion," was the dramatic answer.</p> + +<p>Even Lark fell back, for the moment, stunned. "Y-your complexion," she +faltered.</p> + +<p>"Look! Look at me, Lark. Don't you see? My complexion is gone—my +beautiful complexion that I loved. Look at me! Oh, I would gladly have +sacrificed a leg, or an arm, a—rib or an eye, but not my dear +complexion!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sure enough, now that they looked carefully, they could indeed perceive +that the usual soft creaminess of Carol's skin was prickled and sparred +with ugly red splotches. Her eyes were watery, shot with blood. For a +time they gazed in silence, then they burst into laughter.</p> + +<p>"Pie!" cried Fairy. "It's raspberry pie, coming out, Carol!"</p> + +<p>The corners of Carol's lips twitched slightly, and it was with +difficulty that she maintained her wounded regal bearing. But Lark, +always quick to resent an indignity to this twin of her heart, turned +upon them angrily.</p> + +<p>"Fairy Starr! You are a wicked unfeeling thing! You sit there and laugh +and talk about pie when Carol is sick and suffering—her lovely +complexion all ruined, and it was the joy of my life, that complexion +was. Papa,—why don't you do something?"</p> + +<p>But he only laughed harder than ever. "If there's anything more +preposterous than Carol's vanity because of her beauty, it's Lark's +vanity for her," he said.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p><p>Aunt Grace drew Carol to her side, and examined the ruined complexion +closely. Then she smiled, but there was regret in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Well, Carol, you've spoiled your part of the wedding sure enough. +You've got the measles."</p> + +<p>Then came the silence of utter horror.</p> + +<p>"Not the measles," begged Carol, wounded afresh. "Give me diphtheria, or +smallpox, or—or even leprosy, and I'll bear it bravely and with a +smile, but it shall not be said that Carol's measles spoiled the +wedding."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Carol," wailed Prudence, "don't have the measles,—please don't. +I've waited all my life for this wedding,—don't spoil it."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's your own fault, Prue," interrupted Lark. "If you hadn't kept +us all cooped up when we were little we'd have had measles long ago. +Now, like as not the whole family'll have 'em, and serve you right. No +self-respecting family has any business to grow up without having the +measles."</p> + +<p>"What shall we do now?" queried Constance practically.</p> + +<p>"Well, I always said it was a mistake," said Fairy. "A big wedding—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Fairy, please don't tell me that again. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> know it so well. Papa, +whatever shall we do? Maybe Jerry hasn't had them either."</p> + +<p>"Why, it's easily arranged," said Lark. "We'll just postpone the wedding +until Carol's quite well again."</p> + +<p>"Bad luck," said Connie.</p> + +<p>"Too much work," said Fairy.</p> + +<p>"Well, she can't get married without Carol, can she?" ejaculated Lark.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure it's measles, Aunt Grace?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's measles."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Fairy, "we'll get Alice Bird or Katie Free to bridesmaid +with Lark. They are the same size and either will do all right. She can +wear Carol's dress. You won't mind that, will you, Carol?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Carol moodily, "of course I won't. The only real embroidery +dress I ever had in my life—and haven't got that yet! But go ahead and +get anybody you like. I'm hoodooed, that's what it is. It's a punishment +because you and Jim cheated yesterday, Lark."</p> + +<p>"What did you do?" asked Connie. "You seem to be getting the +punishment!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Shall we have Alice or Katie? Which do you prefer, Lark?"</p> + +<p>"You'll have to get them both," was the stoic answer. "I won't +bridesmaid without Carol."</p> + +<p>"Don't be silly, Lark. You'll have to."</p> + +<p>"Then wait for Carol."</p> + +<p>"Papa, you must make her."</p> + +<p>"No," said Prudence slowly, with a white face. "We'll postpone it. I +won't get married without the whole family."</p> + +<p>"I said right from the start—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, Fairy, we know what you said," interjected Carol. "We know how +you'll get married. First man that gets moonshine enough into his head +to propose to you, you'll trot him post haste to the justice before he +thinks twice."</p> + +<p>In the end, the wedding was postponed a couple of months,—for both +Connie and Fairy took the measles. But when at last, the wedding party, +marshalled by Connie with a huge white basket of flowers, trailed down +the time-honored aisle of the Methodist church, it was without one +dissenting voice pronounced the crowning achievement of Mr. Starr's +whole pastorate.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I was proud of us, Lark," Carol told her twin, after it was over, and +Prudence had gone, and the girls had wept themselves weak on each +other's shoulders. "We get so in the habit of doing things wrong that I +half expected myself to pipe up ahead of father with the ceremony. It +seems—awful—without Prudence,—but it's a satisfaction to know that +she was the best married bride Mount Mark has ever seen."</p> + +<p>"Jerry looked awfully handsome, didn't he? Did you notice how he glowed +at Prudence? I wish you were artistic, Carol, so you could illustrate my +books. Jerry'd make a fine illustration."</p> + +<p>"We looked nice, too. We're not a bad-looking bunch when you come right +down to facts. Of course, it is fine to be as smart as you are, Larkie, +but I'm not jealous. We're mighty lucky to have both beauty and brains +in our twin-ship,—and since one can't have both, I may say I'd just as +lief be pretty. It's so much easier."</p> + +<p>"Carol!"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"We're nearly grown up now. We'll have to begin to settle down. Prudence +says so."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<p>For a few seconds Carol wavered, tremulous. Then she said pluckily, "All +right. Just wait till I powder my nose, will you? It gets so shiny when +I cry."</p> + +<p>"Carol!"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't the house still?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—ghastly."</p> + +<p>"I never thought Prudence was much of a chatter-box, but—listen! There +isn't a sound."</p> + +<p>Carol held out a hand, and Lark clutched it desperately.</p> + +<p>"Let's—let's go find the folks. This is—awful! Little old Prudence is +gone!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE SERENADE</h3> + + +<p><big><b>A</b></big> SUBJECT that never failed to arouse the sarcasm and the ire of Fairy +was that of the Slaughter-house Quartette. This was composed of four +young men—men quite outside the pale as far as the parsonage was +concerned—the disreputable characters of the community, familiar in the +local jail for frequent bursts of intoxication. They slouched, they +smoked, they lounged, they leered. The churches knew them not. They were +the slum element, the Bowery of Mount Mark, Iowa.</p> + +<p>Prudence, in her day, had passed them by with a shy slight nod and a +glance of tender pity. Fairy and Lark, and even Connie, sailed by with +high heads and scornful eyes,—haughty, proud, icily removed. But Carol, +by some weird and inexplicable fancy, treated them with sweet and +gracious solicitude, quite friendly. Her smile as she passed was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> as +sweet as for her dearest friend. Her "Good morning,—isn't this glorious +weather?" was as affably cordial as her, "Breakfast is ready, papa!"</p> + +<p>This was the one subject of dispute between the twins.</p> + +<p>"Oh, please don't, Carol, it does make me so ashamed," Lark entreated.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't be narrow-minded, Larkie," Carol argued. "We're minister's +girls, and we've got to be a good influence,—an encouragement to +the—er, weak and erring, you know. Maybe my smiles will be an +inspiration to them."</p> + +<p>And on this point Carol stood firm even against the tears of her +precious twin.</p> + +<p>One evening at the dinner table Fairy said, with a mocking smile, "How +are your Slaughter-house friends to-day, Carol? When I was at the +dentist's I saw you coming along, beaming at them in your own inimitable +way."</p> + +<p>"Oh, they seemed all right," Carol answered, with a deprecating glance +toward her father and her aunt.</p> + +<p>"I see by last night's paper that Guy Fleisher is just out after his +last thirty days up," Fairy con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>tinued solicitously. "Did he find his +incarceration trying?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't discuss it with him," Carol said indignantly. "I never talk to +them. I just say 'Good morning' in Christian charity."</p> + +<p>Aunt Grace's eyes were smiling as always, but for the first time Carol +felt that the smiles were at, instead of with, her.</p> + +<p>"You would laugh to see her, Aunt Grace," Fairy explained. "They are +generally half intoxicated, sometimes wholly. And Carol trips by, clean, +white and shining. They are always lounging against the store windows or +posts for support, bleary-eyed, dissipated, swaggery, staggery. Carol +nods and smiles as only Carol can, 'Good morning, boys! Isn't it a +lovely day? Are you feeling well?' And they grin at her and sway +ingratiatingly against one another, and say, 'Mornin', Carol.' Carol is +the only really decent person in town that has anything to do with +them."</p> + +<p>"Carol means all right," declared Lark angrily.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," assented Fairy, "They call them the Slaughter-house +Quartette, auntie, because whenever they are sober enough to walk +without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> police assistance, they wander through the streets slaughtering +the peace and serenity of the quiet town with their rendition of all the +late, disgraceful sentimental ditties. They are in many ways striking +characters. I do not wholly misunderstand their attraction for romantic +Carol. They are something like the troubadours of old—only more so."</p> + +<p>Carol's face was crimson. "I don't like them," she cried, "but I'm sorry +for them. I think maybe I can make them see the difference between us, +me so nice and respectable you know, and them so—animalish! It may +arouse their better natures—I suppose they have better natures. I want +to show them that the decent element, we Christians, are sorry for them +and want to make them better."</p> + +<p>"Carol wants to be an influence," Fairy continued. "Of course, it is a +little embarrassing for the rest of us to have her on such friendly +terms with the most unmentionable characters in all Mount Mark. But +Carol is like so many reformers,—in the presence of one great truth she +has eyes for it only, ignoring a thousand other, greater truths."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry for them," Carol repeated, more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> weakly, abashed by the +presence of the united family. Fairy's dissertations on this subject had +usually occurred in private.</p> + +<p>Mr. Starr mentally resolved that he would talk this over with Carol when +the others were not present, for he knew from her face and her voice +that she was really sensitive on the subject. And he knew, too, that it +is difficult to explain to the very young that the finest of ideas are +not applicable to all cases by all people. But it happened that he was +spared the necessity of dealing with Carol privately, for matters +adjusted themselves without his assistance.</p> + +<p>The second night following was an eventful one in the parsonage. One of +the bishops of the church was in Mount Mark for a business conference +with the religious leaders, and was to spend the night at the parsonage. +The meeting was called for eight-thirty for the convenience of the +business men concerned, and was to be held in the church offices. The +men left early, followed shortly by Fairy who designed to spend the +evening at the Averys' home, testing their supply of winter apples. The +twins and Connie, with the newest and most thrilling book<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> Mr. Carnegie +afforded the town, went up-stairs to lie on the bed and take turns +reading aloud. And for a few hours the parsonage was as calm and +peaceful as though it were not designed for the housing of merry +minister's daughters.</p> + +<p>Aunt Grace sat down-stairs darning stockings. The girls' intentions had +been the best in the world, but in less than a year the family darning +had fallen entirely into the capable and willing hands of the gentle +chaperon.</p> + +<p>It was half past ten. The girls had just seen their heroine rescued from +a watery grave and married to her bold preserver by a minister who +happened to be writing a sermon on the beach—no mention of how the +license was secured extemporaneously—and with sighs of gratified +sentiment they lay happily on the bed thinking it all over. And then, +from beneath the peach trees clustered on the south side of the +parsonage, a burst of melody arose.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Carrie, how are you this morning?"</p> + +<p>The girls sat up abruptly, staring at one another, as the curious ugly +song wafted in upon them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> Conviction dawned slowly, sadly, but +unquestionably.</p> + +<p>The Slaughter-house Quartette was serenading Carol in return for her +winsome smiles!</p> + +<p>Carol herself was literally struck dumb. Her face grew crimson, then +white. In her heart, she repeated psalms of thanksgiving that Fairy was +away, and that her father and the bishop would not be in until this +colossal disaster was over.</p> + +<p>Connie was mortified. It seemed like a wholesale parsonage insult. Lark, +after the first awful realization, lay back on the bed and rolled +convulsively.</p> + +<p>"You're an influence all right, Carol," she gurgled. "Will you listen to +that?"</p> + +<p>For <i>Rufus Rastus Johnson Brown</i> was the second choice of her cavaliers +below in the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Rufus Rastus," Lark cried, and then was choked with laughter. "Of +course, it would be—proper if they sang hymns but—oh, listen!"</p> + +<p>The rollicking strains of <i>Budweiser</i> were swung gaily out upon the +night.</p> + +<p>Carol writhed in anguish. The serenade was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> bad enough, but this +unmerciful mocking derision of her adored twin was unendurable.</p> + +<p>Then the quartette waxed sentimental. They sang, and not badly, a few +old southern melodies, and started slowly around the corner of the +house, still singing.</p> + +<p>It has been said that Aunt Grace was always kind, always gentle, +unsuspicious and without guile. She had heard the serenade, and promptly +concluded that it was the work of some of the high-school boys who were +unanimously devoted to Carol. She had a big box of chocolates up-stairs, +for Connie's birthday celebration. She could get them, and make +lemonade, and—</p> + +<p>She opened the door softly and stepped out, directly in the path of the +startled youths. Full of her hospitable intent, she was not discerning +as parsonage people need to be.</p> + +<p>"Come in, boys," she said cordially, "the girls will be down in a +minute."</p> + +<p>The appearance of a guardian angel summoning them to Paradise could not +have confounded them more utterly. They stumbled all over one another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +in trying to back away from her. She laughed softly.</p> + +<p>"Don't be bashful. We enjoyed it very much. Yes, come right in."</p> + +<p>Undoubtedly they would have declined if only they could have thought of +the proper method of doing so. As it was, they only succeeded in +shambling through the parsonage door, instinctively concealing their +half-smoked cigarettes beneath their fingers.</p> + +<p>Aunt Grace ushered them into the pleasant living-room, and ran up to +summon her nieces.</p> + +<p>Left alone, the boys looked at one another with amazement and with +grief, and the leader, the touching tenor, said with true musical +fervor, "Well, this is a go!"</p> + +<p>In the meantime, the girls, with horror, had heard their aunt's +invitation. What in the world did she mean? Was it a trick between her +and Fairy? Had they hired the awful Slaughterers to bring this disgrace +upon the parsonage? Sternly they faced her when she opened their door.</p> + +<p>"Come down, girls—I invited them in. I'm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> going to make lemonade and +serve my nice chocolates. Hurry down."</p> + +<p>"You invited them in!" echoed Connie.</p> + +<p>"The Slaughter-house Quartette," hissed Lark.</p> + +<p>Then Aunt Grace whirled about and stared at them. "Mercy!" she +whispered, remembering for the first time Fairy's words. "Mercy! Is +it—that? I thought it was high-school boys and—mercy!"</p> + +<p>"Mercy is good," said Carol grimly.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to put them out," suggested Connie.</p> + +<p>"I can't! How can I?—How did I know?—What on earth,—Oh, Carol +whatever made you smile at them?" she wailed helplessly. "You know how +men are when they are smiled at! The bishop—"</p> + +<p>"You'll have to get them out before the bishop comes back," said Carol. +"You must. And if any of you ever give this away to father or Fairy +I'll—"</p> + +<p>"You'd better go down a minute, girls," urged their aunt. "That will be +the easiest way. I'll just pass the candy and invite them to come again +and then they'll go. Hurry now, and we'll get rid of them before the +others come. Be as decent as you can, and it'll soon be over."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<p>Thus adjured, with the dignity of the bishop and the laughter of Fairy +ever in their thoughts, the girls arose and went down, proudly, calmly, +loftily. Their inborn senses of humor came to their assistance when they +entered the living-room. The Slaughter boys looked far more slaughtered +than slaughtering. They sat limply in their chairs, nervously twitching +their yellowed slimy fingers, their dull eyes intent upon the worn spots +in the carpet. It was funny! Even Carol smiled, not the serene sweet +smile that melted hearts, but the grim hard smile of the joker when the +tables are turned! She flattered herself that this wretched travesty on +parsonage courtesy would be ended before there were any further +witnesses to her downfall from her proud fine heights, but she was +doomed to disappointment. Fairy, on the Averys' porch, had heard the +serenade. After the first shock, and after the helpless laughter that +followed, she bade her friends good night.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've just got to go," she said. "It's a joke on Carol. I wouldn't +miss it for twenty-five bushels of apples,—even as good as these are."</p> + +<p>Her eyes twinkling with delight, she ran home<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> and waited behind the +rose bushes until the moment for her appearance seemed at hand. Then she +stepped into the room where her outraged sisters were stoically passing +precious and luscious chocolates to tobacco-saturated youths.</p> + +<p>"Good evening," she said. "The Averys and I enjoyed the concert, too. I +do love to hear music outdoors on still nights like these. Carol, maybe +your friends would like a drink. Are there any lemons, auntie? We might +have a little lemonade."</p> + +<p>Carol writhed helplessly. "I'll make it," she said, and rushed to the +kitchen to vent her fury by shaking the very life out of the lemons. But +she did not waste time. Her father's twinkles were nearly as bad as +Fairy's own—and the bishop!</p> + +<p>"I'd wish it would choke 'em if it wouldn't take so long," she muttered +passionately, as she hurried in with the pitcher and glasses, ready to +serve the "slums" with her own chaste hands.</p> + +<p>She was just serving the melting tenor when she heard her father's voice +in the hall.</p> + +<p>"Too late," she said aloud, and with such despair in her voice that +Fairy relented and mentally promised to "see her through."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Starr's eyes twinkled freely when he saw the guests in his home, and +the gentle bishop's puzzled interest nearly sent them all off into +laughter. Fairy had no idea of the young men's names, but she said, +quickly, to spare Carol:</p> + +<p>"We have been serenaded to-night, Doctor—you just missed it. These are +the Mount Mark troubadours. You are lucky to get here in time for the +lemonade."</p> + +<p>But when she saw the bishop glance concernedly from the yellow fingers +to the dull eyes and the brown-streaked mouth, her gravity nearly +forsook her. The Slaughterers, already dashed to the ground by +embarrassment, were entirely routed by the presence of the bishop. With +incoherent apologies, they rose to their unsteady feet and in a cloud of +breezy odors, made their escape.</p> + +<p>Mr. Starr laughed a little, Aunt Grace put her arm protectingly about +Carol's rigid shoulders, and the bishop said, "Well, well, well," with +gentle inquiry.</p> + +<p>"We call them the Slaughter-house Quartette," Fairy began cheerfully. +"They are the lower strata<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> of Mount Mark, and they make the nights +hideous with their choice selection of popular airs. The parsonage is +divided about them. Some of us think we should treat them with proud and +cold disdain. Some think we should regard them with a tender, gentle, +er—smiling pity. And evidently they appreciated the smiles for they +gave us a serenade in return for them. Aunt Grace did not know their +history, so she invited them in, thinking they were just ordinary +schoolboys. It is home mission work run aground."</p> + +<p>The bishop nodded sympathetically. "One has to be so careful," he said. +"So extremely careful with characters like those. No doubt they meant +well by their serenade, but—girls especially have to be very careful. I +think as a rule it is safer to let men show the tender pity and women +the fine disdain. I don't imagine they would come serenading your father +and me! You carried it off beautifully, girls. I am sure your father was +proud of you. I was myself. I'm glad you are Methodists. Not many girls +so young could handle a difficult matter as neatly as you did."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Starr, but his eyes twinkled toward Carol once more; +"yes, indeed, I think we are well cleared of a disagreeable business."</p> + +<p>But Carol looked at Fairy with such humble, passionate gratitude that +tears came to Fairy's eyes and she turned quickly away.</p> + +<p>"Carol is a sweet girl," she thought. "I wonder if things will work out +for her just right—to make her as happy as she ought to be. She's +so—lovely."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>SUBSTITUTION</h3> + + +<p><big><b>T</b></big>HE twins came in at dinner-time wrapped in unwonted silence. Lark's +face was darkened by an anxious shadow, while Carol wore an expression +of heroic determination. They sat down to the table without a word, and +helped themselves to fish balls with a surprising lack of interest.</p> + +<p>"What's up?" Connie asked, when the rest of the family dismissed the +matter with amused glances.</p> + +<p>Lark sighed and looked at Carol, seeming to seek courage from that +Spartan countenance.</p> + +<p>Carol squared her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Well, go on," Connie urged. "Don't be silly. You know you're crazy to +tell us about it, you only want to be coaxed."</p> + +<p>Lark sighed again, and gazed appealingly at her stout-hearted twin. +Carol never could resist the appeal of those pleading eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Larkie promised to speak a piece at the Sunday-school concert two weeks +from to-morrow," she vouchsafed, as unconcernedly as possible.</p> + +<p>"Mercy!" ejaculated Connie, with an astonishment that was not altogether +complimentary.</p> + +<p>"Careful, Larkie," cautioned Fairy. "You'll disgrace the parsonage if +you don't watch out."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," declared their father, "Lark can speak as well as anybody if +she just keeps a good grip on herself and doesn't get stage fright."</p> + +<p>Aunt Grace smiled gently.</p> + +<p>Connie frowned. "It's a risky business," she said. "Lark can't speak any +more than a rabbit, and—"</p> + +<p>"I know it," was the humble admission.</p> + +<p>"Don't be a goose, Con," interrupted Carol. "Of course Lark can speak a +piece. She must learn it, learn it, learn it, so she can rattle it off +backwards with her eyes shut. Then even if she gets scared, she can go +right on and folks won't know the difference. It gets to be a habit if +you know it well enough. That's the whole secret. Of course she can +speak."</p> + +<p>"How did it happen?" inquired Fairy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't know," Lark said sorrowfully. "Nothing was ever farther from my +thoughts, I assure you. The first thing I knew, Mrs. Curtiss was +thanking me for my promise, and Carol was marching me off like grim +death."</p> + +<p>Carol smiled, relieved now that the family commentary was over. "It was +very natural. Mrs. Curtiss begged her to do it, and Lark refused. That +always happens, every time the Sunday-school gives an entertainment. But +Mrs. Curtiss went on to say how badly the Sunday-school needs the money, +and how big a drawing card it would be for both of us twins to be on the +program, one right after the other, and how well it would look for the +parsonage, and it never occurred to me to warn Lark, for I never dreamed +of her doing it. And all of a sudden she said, 'All right, then, I'll do +it,' and Mrs. Curtiss gave her a piece and we came home. But I'm not +worried about it. Lark can do anything if she only tries."</p> + +<p>"I thought it wouldn't hurt me to try it once," Lark volunteered in her +own defense.</p> + +<p>Aunt Grace nodded, with a smile of interested approval.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm proud of you, Lark, quite proud of you," her father said warmly. +"It's a big thing for you to make such a plunge,—just fine."</p> + +<p>"I'm proud of you now, too," Connie said darkly. "The question is, will +we be proud of you after the concert?"</p> + +<p>Lark sighed dolorously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, pooh!" encouraged Carol. "Anybody can speak a silly little old +piece like that. And it will look so nice to have our names right +together on the program. It'll bring out all the high-school folks, +sure."</p> + +<p>"Yes, they'll come to hear Lark all right," Fairy smiled. "But she'll +make it go, of course. And it will give Carol a chance to show her +cleverness by telling her how to do it."</p> + +<p>So as soon as supper was over, Carol said decidedly, "Now, Connie, +you'll have to help me with the dishes the next two weeks, for Lark's +got to practise on that piece. Lark, you must read it over, very +thoughtfully first to get the meaning. Then just read it and read it and +read it, a dozen times, a hundred times, over and over and over. And +pretty soon you'll know it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll bet I don't," was the discouraging retort, as Lark, with +pronounced distaste, took the slip of paper and sat down in the corner +to read the "blooming thing," as she muttered crossly to herself.</p> + +<p>Connie and Carol did up the dishes in dreadful silence, and then Carol +returned to the charge. "How many times did you read it?"</p> + +<p>"Fourteen and a half," was the patient answer. "It's a silly thing, +Carol. There's no sense to it. 'The wind went drifting o'er the lea.'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's not so bad," Carol said helpfully. "I've had pieces with +worse lines than that. 'The imprint of a dainty foot,' for instance. +When you say, 'The wind went drifting o'er the lea,' you must kind of +let your voice glide along, very rhythmically, very—"</p> + +<p>"Windily," suggested Connie, who remained to witness the exhibition.</p> + +<p>"You keep still, Constance Starr, or you can get out of here! It's no +laughing matter I can tell you, and you have to keep out or I won't help +and then—"</p> + +<p>"I'll keep still. But it ought to be windily you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> know, since it's the +wind. I meant it for a joke," she informed them. The twins had a very +disheartening way of failing to recognize Connie's jokes—it took the +life out of them.</p> + +<p>"Now read it aloud, Lark, so I can see if you get the proper +expression," Carol continued, when Connie was utterly subdued.</p> + +<p>Lark obediently but unhappily read the quaint poem aloud and Carol said +it was very good. "You must read it aloud often, very often. That'll +give you a better idea of the accent. Now put it away, and don't look at +it again to-night. If you keep it up too long you'll get so dead sick of +it you can't speak it at all."</p> + +<p>For two entire weeks, the twins were changed creatures. Lark read the +"blooming piece" avidly, repeatedly and with bitter hate. Carol stood +grimly by, listening intently, offering curt apt criticisms. Finally, +Lark "knew it," and the rest of the time was spent in practising before +the mirror,—to see if she kept her face pleasant.</p> + +<p>"For the face has a whole lot to do with it, my dear," said Carol +sagely, "though the critics would never admit it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> + +<p>By the evening of the Sunday-school concert—they were concerting for +the sake of a hundred-dollar subscription to church repairs—Lark had +mastered her recitation so perfectly that the minds of the parsonage +were nearly at peace. She still felt a deep resentment toward the +situation, but this was partially counterbalanced by the satisfaction of +seeing her name in print, directly beneath Carol's on the program.</p> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Recitations"> +<tr><td align='left'>"Recitation_______________Miss Carol Starr.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: .5em;">Recitation_______________Miss Lark Starr."</span></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>It looked very well indeed, and the whole family took a proper interest +in it. No one gave Carol's recitation a second thought. She always +recited, and did it easily and well. It was quite a commonplace +occurrence for her.</p> + +<p>On the night of the concert she superintended Lark's dressing with +maternal care. "You look all right," she said, "just fine. Now don't get +scared, Lark. It's so silly. Remember that you know all those people by +heart, you can talk a blue streak to any of them. There's no use—"</p> + +<p>"But I can't talk a blue streak to the whole<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> houseful at once," Lark +protested. "It makes me have such a—hollow feeling—to see so many +white faces gazing up, and it's hot, and—"</p> + +<p>"Stop that," came the stern command. "You don't want to get cold feet +before you start. If you do accidentally forget once or twice, don't +worry. I know the piece as well as you do, and I can prompt you from +behind without any one noticing it. At first it made me awfully cross +when they wanted us reciters to sit on the platform for every one to +stare at. But now I'm glad of it. I'll be right beside you, and can +prompt you without any trouble at all. But you won't forget." She kissed +her. "You'll do fine, Larkie, just as fine as you look, and it couldn't +be better than that."</p> + +<p>Just then Connie ran in. "Fairy wants to know if you are getting stage +fright, Lark? My, you do look nice! Now, for goodness' sake, Lark, +remember the parsonage, and don't make a fizzle of it."</p> + +<p>"Who says fizzle?" demanded their father from the doorway. "Never say +die, my girl. Why, Lark, I never saw you look so sweet. You have your +hair fixed a new way, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"Carol did it," was the shy reply. "It does look<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> nice, doesn't it? I'm +not scared, father, not a bit—yet! But there's a hollow feeling—"</p> + +<p>"Get her an apple, Connie," said Carol. "It's because she didn't eat any +supper. She's not scared."</p> + +<p>"I don't want an apple. Come on, let's go down. Have the boys come?"</p> + +<p>"No, but they'll be here in a minute. Jim's never late. I do get sore at +Jim—I'd forty times rather go with him than Hartley—but he always puts +off asking us until the last minute and then I have a date and you get +him. I believe he does it on purpose. Come on down."</p> + +<p>Aunt Grace looked at the pale sweet face with gratified delight, and +kissed her warmly. Her father walked around her, nodding approval.</p> + +<p>"You look like a dream," he said. "The wind a-drifting o'er the lea +ne'er blew upon a fairer sight! You shall walk with me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, you can't remember that you're obsolete," laughed Fairy. +"The twins have attained to the dignity of boys, and aren't satisfied +with the fond but sober arm of father any more. Our little twins have +dates to-night, as usual nowadays."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Grace," he said solemnly, "it's a wretched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> business, having a +parsonage full of daughters. Just as soon as they reach the age of +beauty, grace and charm, they turn their backs on their fathers and +smile on fairer lads."</p> + +<p>"You've got me, father," said Connie consolingly.</p> + +<p>"And me,—when Babbie's in Chicago," added Fairy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's some help. Connie, be an old maid. Do! I implore you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Connie's got a beau already," said Carol. "It's the fat Allen boy. +They don't have dates yet, but they've got an awful case on. He's going +to make their living by traveling with a show. You'll have to put up +with auntie—she's beyond the beauing stage!"</p> + +<p>"Suits me," he said contentedly, "I am getting more than my deserts. +Come on, Grace, we'll start."</p> + +<p>"So will we, Connie," said Fairy.</p> + +<p>But the boys came, both together, and the family group set out together. +Carol and Hartley—one of her high-school admirers—led off by running a +race down the parsonage walk. And Lark, old,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> worn and grave, brought up +the rear with Jim Forrest. Jim was a favorite attendant of the twins. He +had been graduated from high school the year previous, and was finishing +off at the agricultural college in Ames. But Ames was not far from home, +and he was still frequently on hand to squire the twins when squires +were in demand. He was curiously generous and impartial in his +attentions,—it was this which so endeared him to the twins. He made his +dates by telephone, invariably. And the conversations might almost have +been decreed by law.</p> + +<p>"May I speak to one of the twins?"</p> + +<p>The nearest twin was summoned, and then he asked:</p> + +<p>"Have you twins got dates for the ball game?"—or the party, or the +concert.</p> + +<p>And the twin at the telephone would say, "Yes, we both have—hard luck, +Jim." Or, "I have, but Carol hasn't." Sometimes it was, "No, we haven't, +but we're just crazy to go." And in reply to the first Jim always +answered, "That's a shame,—why didn't you remember me and hold off?" +And to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> the second, "Well, ask her if I can come around for her." And to +the third, "Good, let's all go together and have a celebration."</p> + +<p>For this broad-minded devotion the twins gave him a deep-seated +gratitude and affection and he always stood high in their favor.</p> + +<p>On this occasion Carol had answered the telephone, and in reply to his +query she answered crossly, "Oh, Jim, you stupid thing, why didn't you +phone yesterday? I would so much rather go with you than—But never +mind. I have a date, but Lark hasn't. And you just called in time, too, +for Harvey Lane told Hartley he was going to ask for a date."</p> + +<p>And Jim had called back excitedly, "Bring her to the phone, quick; don't +waste a minute." And Lark was called, and the date was duly scheduled.</p> + +<p>"Are you scared, Lark?" he asked her as they walked slowly down the +street toward the church.</p> + +<p>"I'm not scared, Jim," she answered solemnly, "but I'm perfectly +cavernous, if you know what that means."</p> + +<p>"I sure do know," he said fervently, "didn't I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> have to do a speech at +the commencement exercises? There never was a completer cavern than I +was that night. But I can't figure out why folks agree to do such things +when they don't have to. I had to. It was compulsory."</p> + +<p>Lark gazed at him with limpid troubled eyes. "I can't figure out, +either. I don't know why I did. It was a mistake, some way."</p> + +<p>At the church, which was gratifyingly crowded with Sunday-school +enthusiasts, the twins forsook their friends and slipped along the side +aisle to the "dressing-room,"—commonly utilized as the store room for +worn-out song books, Bibles and lesson sheets. There they sat in +throbbing, quivering silence with the rest of the "entertainers," until +the first strains of the piano solo broke forth, when they walked +sedately out and took their seats along the side of the platform—an +antediluvian custom which has long been discarded by everything but +Sunday-schools and graduating classes.</p> + +<p>Printed programs had been distributed, but the superintendent called off +the numbers also. Not because it was necessary, but because +superintendents<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> have to do something on such occasions and that is the +only way to prevent superfluous speech-making.</p> + +<p>The program went along smoothly, with no more stumbles than is customary +at such affairs, and nicely punctuated with hand clappings. When the +superintendent read, "Recitation—Miss Carol Starr," the applause was +enthusiastic, for Carol was a prime favorite in church and school and +town. With sweet and charming nonchalance she tripped to the front of +the platform and gave a graceful inclination of her proud young head in +response to the applause. Then her voice rang out, and the room was +hushed. Nobody ever worried when Carol spoke a piece. Things always went +all right. And back to her place she walked, her face flushed, her heart +swelling high with the gratification of a good deed well done.</p> + +<p>She sat down by Lark, glad she had done it, glad it was over, and +praying that Lark would come off as well.</p> + +<p>Lark was trembling.</p> + +<p>"Carol," she whispered, "I—I'm scared."</p> + +<p>Instantly the triumph left Carol's heart. "You're<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> not," she whispered +passionately, gripping her twin's hand closely, "you are not, you're all +right."</p> + +<p>Lark trembled more violently. Her head swayed a little. Bright flashes +of light were blinding her eyes, and her ears were ringing. "I—can't," +she muttered thickly. "I'm sick."</p> + +<p>Carol leaned close to her and began a violent train of conversation, for +the purpose of distracting her attention. Lark grew more pale.</p> + +<p>"Recitation—Miss Lark Starr."</p> + +<p>Again the applause rang out.</p> + +<p>Lark did not move. "I can't," she whispered again. "I can't."</p> + +<p>"Lark, Lark," begged Carol desperately. "You must go, you must. 'The +wind went drifting o'er the lea,'—it's easy enough. Go on, Lark. You +must."</p> + +<p>Lark shook her head. "Mmmmm," she murmured indistinctly.</p> + +<p>"Remember the parsonage," begged Carol. "Think of Prudence. Think of +papa. Look, there he is, right down there. He's expecting you, Lark. You +must!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lark tried to rise. She could not. She could not see her father's clear +encouraging face for those queer flashes of light.</p> + +<p>"You can," whispered Carol. "You can do anything if you try. Prudence +says so."</p> + +<p>People were craning their necks, and peering curiously up to the second +row where the twins sat side by side. The other performers nudged one +another, smiling significantly. The superintendent creaked heavily +across the platform and beckoned with one plump finger.</p> + +<p>"I can't," Lark whispered, "I'm sick."</p> + +<p>"Lark,—Lark," called the superintendent.</p> + +<p>Carol sighed bitterly. Evidently it was up to her. With a grim face, she +rose from her chair and started out on the platform. The superintendent +stared at her, his lips parting. The people stared at her too, and +smiled, and then laughed. Panic-stricken, her eyes sought her father's +face. He nodded quickly, and his eyes approved.</p> + +<p>"Good!" His lips formed the word, and Carol did not falter again. The +applause was nearly drowned with laughter as Carol advanced for her +second recitation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The wind went drifting o'er the lea," she began,—her voice drifting +properly on the words,—and so on to the end of the piece.</p> + +<p>Most of the audience, knowing Lark's temperament, had concluded that +fear prevented her appearance, and understood that Carol had come to her +twin's rescue for the reputation of the parsonage. The applause was +deafening as she went back. It grew louder as she sat down with a +comforting little grin at Lark. Then as the clapping continued, +something of her natural impishness entered her heart.</p> + +<p>"Lark," she whispered, "go out and make a bow."</p> + +<p>"Mercy!" gasped Lark. "I didn't do anything."</p> + +<p>"It was supposed to be you—go on, Lark! Hurry! You've got to! Think +what a joke it will be."</p> + +<p>Lark hesitated, but Carol's dominance was compelling.</p> + +<p>"Do as I tell you," came the peremptory order, and Lark arose from her +chair, stepped out before the astonished audience and made a slow and +graceful bow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + +<p>This time the applause ran riot, for people of less experience than +those of Mount Mark could tell that the twins were playing <ins title="Transcriber's Note: This word added to text">a</ins> game. As it +continued, Carol caught Larkin's hand in hers, and together they stepped +out once more, laughing and bowing right and left.</p> + +<p>Lark was the last one in that night, for she and Jim celebrated her +defeat with two ice-cream sodas a piece at the corner drug store.</p> + +<p>"I disgraced the parsonage," she said meekly, as she stepped into the +family circle, waiting to receive her.</p> + +<p>"Indeed you didn't," said Fairy. "It was too bad, but Carol passed it +off nicely, and then, turning it into a joke that way took all the +embarrassment out of it. It was perfectly all right, and we weren't a +bit ashamed."</p> + +<p>"And you did look awfully sweet when you made your bow," Connie said +warmly,—for when a member of the family was down, no one ventured a +laugh, laugh-loving though they were.</p> + +<p>Curious to say, the odd little freak of substitution only endeared the +twins to the people of Mount Mark the more.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> + +<p>"By ginger, you can't beat them bloomin' twins," said Harvey Reel, +chuckling admiringly. And no one disagreed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>MAKING MATCHES</h3> + + +<p><big><b>A</b></big>UNT GRACE sat in a low rocker with a bit of embroidery in her hands. +And Fairy sat at the table, a formidable array of books before her. Aunt +Grace was gazing idly at her sewing basket, a soft smile on her lips. +And Fairy was staring thoughtfully into the twilight, a soft glow in her +eyes. Aunt Grace was thinking of the jolly parsonage family, and how +pleasant it was to live with them. And Fairy was thinking—ah, Fairy was +twenty, and twenty-year-olds always stare into the twilight, with dreamy +far-seeing eyes.</p> + +<p>In upon this peaceful scene burst the twins, flushed, tempestuous, in +spite of their seventeen years. Their hurry to speak had rendered them +incapable of speech, so they stood in the doorway panting breathlessly +for a moment, while Fairy and her aunt, withdrawn thus rudely from +dreamland, looked at them interrogatively.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so, too," began Fairy, and the twins endeavored to crush +her with their lofty scorn. But it is not easy to express lofty scorn +when one is red in the face, perspirey and short of breath. So the twins +decided of necessity to overlook the offense just this once.</p> + +<p>Finally, recovering their vocal powers simultaneously, they cried in +unison:</p> + +<p>"Duckie!"</p> + +<p>"Duck! In the yard! Do you mean a live one? Where did it come from?" +ejaculated their aunt.</p> + +<p>"They mean Professor Duck of their freshman year," explained Fairy +complacently. "It's nothing. The twins always make a fuss over him. They +feel grateful to him for showing them through freshman science—that's +all."</p> + +<p>"That's all," gasped Carol. "Why, Fairy Starr, do you know he's employed +by the—Society of—a—a Scientific Research Organization—or +something—in New York City, and gets four thousand dollars a year and +has prospects—all kinds of prospects!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know it. You haven't seen him, auntie. He's tall, and has +wrinkles around his eyes, and a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> dictatorial nose, and steel gray eyes. +He calls the twins song-birds, and they're so flattered they adore him. +He sends them candy for Christmas. You know that Duckie they rave so +much about. It's the very man. Is he here?"</p> + +<p>The twins stared at each other in blank exasperation for a full minute. +They knew that Fairy didn't deserve to hear their news, but at the same +time they did not deserve such bitter punishment as having to refrain +from talking about it,—so they swallowed again, sadly, and ignored her.</p> + +<p>"He's in town," said Lark.</p> + +<p>"Going to stay a week," added Carol.</p> + +<p>"And he said he wanted to have lots of good times with us, and +so—we—why, of course it was very sudden, and we didn't have time to +ask—"</p> + +<p>"But parsonage doors are always open—"</p> + +<p>"And I don't know how he ever wormed it out of us, but—one of us—"</p> + +<p>"I can't remember which one!"</p> + +<p>"Invited him to come for dinner to-night, and he's coming."</p> + +<p>"Goodness," said Aunt Grace. "We were going to have potato soup and +toast."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It'll keep," said Carol. "Of course we're sorry to inconvenience you at +this late hour, but Larkie and I will tell Connie what to do, so you +won't have much bother. Let's see, now, we must think up a pretty fair +meal. Four thousand a year—and prospects!"</p> + +<p>Aunt Grace turned questioning eyes toward the older sister.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Fairy, smiling. "It's evidently settled. Think up your +menu, twins, and put Connie to work."</p> + +<p>"Is he nice?" Aunt Grace queried.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think he is. He used to go with our college bunch some. I know +him pretty well. He brought me home from things a time or two."</p> + +<p>Carol leaned forward and looked at her handsome sister with sudden +intentness. "He asked about you," she said, keen eyes on Fairy's. "He +asked particularly about you."</p> + +<p>"Did he? Thanks. Yes, he's not bad. He's pretty good in a crowd."</p> + +<p>By the force of her magnetic gaze, Carol drew Lark out of the room, and +the door closed behind them. A few minutes later they returned. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +was about them an air of subdued excitement, suggestive of intrigue, +that Fairy found disturbing.</p> + +<p>"You needn't plan any nonsense, twins," she cautioned. "He's no beau of +mine."</p> + +<p>"Of course not," they assured her pleasantly. "We're too old for +mischief. Seventeen, and sensible for our years! Say, Fairy, you'll be +nice to Duckie, won't you? We're too young really to entertain him, and +he's so nice we want him to have a good time. Can't you try to make it +pleasant for him this week? He'll only be here a few days. Will you do +that much for us?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I would, twins, of course, to oblige you, but you know Gene's in +town this week, and I've got to—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you leave Babbie—Gene, I mean—to us," said Carol airily. Fairy +being a junior in college, and Eugene Babler a student of pharmacy in +Chicago, she felt obliged to restore him to his Christian name, +shortened to Gene. But the twins refused to accede to this propriety, +except when they particularly wished to placate Fairy.</p> + +<p>"You leave Gene to us," repeated Carol. "We'll amuse him. Is he coming +to-night?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, at seven-thirty."</p> + +<p>"Let's call him up and invite him for dinner, too," suggested Lark. "And +you'll do us a favor and be nice to Duckie, won't you? We'll keep +Babb—er, Gene—out of the road. You phone to Gene, Carol, and—"</p> + +<p>"I'll do my own phoning, thanks," said Fairy, rising quickly. "Yes, +we'll have them both. And just as a favor to you, twins, I will help +amuse your professor. You'll be good, and help, won't you?"</p> + +<p>The twins glowed at Fairy with a warmth that seemed almost triumphant. +She stopped and looked at them doubtfully. When she returned after +telephoning, they were gone, and she said to her aunt:</p> + +<p>"I'm not superstitious, but when the twins act like that, there's +usually a cloud in the parsonage sky-light. Prudence says so."</p> + +<p>But the twins comported themselves most decorously. All during the week +they worked like kitchen slaveys, doing chores, running errands. And +they treated Fairy with a gentle consideration which almost drew tears +to her eyes, though she still remembered Prudence's cloud in the +parsonage sky-light!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> + +<p>They certainly interfered with her own plans. They engineered her off on +to their beloved professor at every conceivable turn. And Gene, who +nearly haunted the house, had a savage gleam in his eyes quite out of +accord with his usual chatty good humor. Fairy knew she was being +adroitly managed, but she had promised to help the twins with "Duckie." +At first she tried artistically and unobtrusively to free herself from +the complication in which her sisters had involved her. But the twins +were both persistent and clever, and Fairy found herself no match for +them when it came right down to business. She had no idea of their +purpose,—she only knew that she and Gene were always on opposite sides +of the room, the young man grinning savagely at the twins' merry +prattle, and she and the professor trying to keep quiet enough to hear +every word from the other corner. And if they walked, Gene was dragged +off by the firm slender fingers of the friendly twins, and Fairy and the +professor walked drearily along in the rear, talking inanely about the +weather,—and wondering what the twins were talking about.</p> + +<p>And the week passed. Gene finally fell off in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> attendance, and the +twins took a much needed rest. On Friday afternoon they flattered +themselves that all was well. Gene was not coming, Fairy was in the +hammock waiting for the professor. So the twins hugged each other +gleefully and went to the haymow to discuss the strain and struggle of +the week. And then—</p> + +<p>"Why, the big mutt!" cried Carol, in her annoyance ignoring the +Methodist grammatical boundaries, "here comes that bubbling Babler this +minute. And he said he was going to New London for the day. Now we'll +have to chase down there and shoo him off before Duckie comes." The +twins, growling and grumbling, gathered themselves up and started. But +they started too reluctantly, too leisurely. They were not in time.</p> + +<p>Fairy sat up in the hammock with a cry of surprise, but not vexation, +when Gene's angry countenance appeared before her.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Fairy," he began, "what's the joke? Are your fingers itching +to get hold of that four thousand a year the twins are eternally +bragging about? Are you trying to throw yourself into the old +school-teacher's pocketbook, or what?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't be silly, Gene," she said, "come and sit down and—"</p> + +<p>"Sit down, your grandmother!" he snapped still angrily. "Old Double D. +D. will be bobbing up in a minute, and the twins'll drag me off to hear +about a sick rooster, or something. He is coming, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"I—guess he is," she said confusedly.</p> + +<p>"Let's cut and run, will you?" he suggested hopefully. "We can be out of +sight before—Come on, Fairy, be good to me. I haven't had a glimpse or +a touch of you the whole week. What do you reckon I came down here for? +Come on. Let's beat it." He looked around with a worried air. "Hurry, or +the twins'll get us."</p> + +<p>Fairy hesitated, and was lost. Gene grabbed her hand, and the next +instant, laughing, they were crawling under the fence at the south +corner of the parsonage lawn just as the twins appeared at the barn +door. They stopped. They gasped. They stared at each other in dismay.</p> + +<p>"It was a put-up job," declared Carol.</p> + +<p>"Now what'll we do? But Babbie's got more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> sense than I thought he had, +I must confess. Do you suppose he was kidnaping her?"</p> + +<p>Carol snorted derisively. "Kidnaping nothing! She was ahead when I saw +'em. What'll we tell the professor?"</p> + +<p>Two humbled gentle twins greeted the professor some fifteen minutes +later.</p> + +<p>"We're so sorry," Carol explained faintly. "Babbie came and he and +Fairy—I guess they had an errand somewhere. We think they'll be back +very soon. Fairy will be so sorry."</p> + +<p>The professor smiled and looked quite bright.</p> + +<p>"Are they gone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but we're sure they'll be back,—that is, we're almost sure." +Carol, remembering the mode of their departure, felt far less assurance +on that point than she could have wished.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's too bad," he said cheerfully. "But my loss is Babler's +gain. I suppose we ought in Christian decency to give him the afternoon. +Let's go out to the creek for a stroll ourselves, shall we? That'll +leave him a clear field when they return. You think they'll be back +soon, do you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> + +<p>He looked down the road hopefully, but whether hopeful they would +return, or wouldn't, the twins could not have told. At any rate, he +seemed quite impatient until they were ready to start, and then, very +gaily, the three wended their way out the pretty country road toward the +creek and Blackbird Lane. They had a good time, the twins always did +insist that no one on earth was quite so entertaining as dear old +Duckie, but in her heart Carol registered a solemn vow to have it out +with Fairy when she got back. She had no opportunity that night. Fairy +and Gene telephoned that they would not be home for dinner, and the +professor had gone, and the twins were sleeping soundly, when Fairy +crept softly up the stairs.</p> + +<p>But Carol did not forget her vow. Early the next morning she stalked +grimly into Fairy's room, where Fairy was conscientiously bringing order +out of the chaos in her bureau drawers, a thing Fairy always did after a +perfectly happy day. Carol knew that, and it was with genuine reproach +in her voice that she spoke at last, after standing for some two minutes +watching Fairy as she deftly twirled long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> ribbons about her fingers and +then laid them in methodical piles in separate corners of the drawers.</p> + +<p>"Fairy," she said sadly, "you don't seem very appreciative some way. +Here Larkie and I have tried so hard to give you a genuine +opportunity—we've worked and schemed and kept ourselves in the +background, and that's the way you serve us! It's disappointing. It's +downright disheartening."</p> + +<p>Fairy folded a blue veil and laid it on top of a white one. Then she +turned. "Yes. What?" She inquired coolly.</p> + +<p>"There are so few real chances for a woman in Mount Mark, and we felt +that this was once in a lifetime. And you know how hard we worked. And +then, when we relaxed our—our vigilance—just for a moment, you spoiled +it all by—"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—talk English, Carrie. What was it you tried to do for me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, if you want plain English you can have it," said Carol heatedly. +"You know what professor is, a swell position like his, and such +prospects, and New York City, and four thousand a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> year with a raise for +next year, and we tried to give you a good fair chance to land him +squarely, and—"</p> + +<p>"To land him—"</p> + +<p>"To get him, then! He hasn't any girl. You could have been engaged to +him this minute—Professor David Arnold Duke—if you had wanted to."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's it."</p> + +<p>Fairy smiled. "Thank you, dear, it was sweet of you, but you're too +late. I am engaged."</p> + +<p>Carol's lips parted, closed, parted again. "You—you?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly so."</p> + +<p>Hope flashed into Carol's eyes. Fairy saw it, and answered swiftly.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I'm not crazy about your little Prof. I am engaged to +Eugene Babler." She said it with pride, not unmixed with defiance, +knowing as she did that the twins considered Gene too undignified for a +parsonage son-in-law. The twins were strong for parsonage dignity!</p> + +<p>"You—are?"</p> + +<p>"I am."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>A long instant Carol stared at her. Then she turned toward the door.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to tell papa."</p> + +<p>Fairy laughed. "Papa knows it."</p> + +<p>Carol came slowly back and stood by the dresser again. After a short +silence she moved away once more.</p> + +<p>"Where now?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell Aunt Grace, then."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Grace knows it, too."</p> + +<p>"Does Prudence know it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Carol swallowed this bitter pill in silence.</p> + +<p>"How long?" she inquired at last.</p> + +<p>"About a year. Look here, Carol, I'll show you something. Really I'm +glad you know about it. We're pretty young, and papa thought we ought to +keep it dark a while to make sure. That's why we didn't tell you. Look +at this." From her cedar chest—a Christmas gift from Gene—she drew out +a small velvet jeweler's box, and displayed before the admiring eyes of +Carol a plain gold ring with a modest diamond.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> + +<p>Carol kissed it. Then she kissed Fairy twice.</p> + +<p>"I know you'll be awfully happy, Fairy," she said soberly. "And I'm glad +of it. But—I can't honestly believe there's any man good enough for our +girls. Babbie's nice, and dear, and all that, and he's so crazy about +you, and—do you love him?" Her eyes were wide, rather wondering, as she +put this question softly.</p> + +<p>Fairy put her arm about her sister's shoulders, and her fine steady eyes +met Carol's clearly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said frankly, "I love him—with all my heart."</p> + +<p>"Is that what makes you so—so shiny, and smiley, and starry all the +time?"</p> + +<p>"I guess it is. It is the most wonderful thing in the world, Carol. You +can't even imagine it—beforehand. It is magical, it is heavenly."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose it is. Prudence says so, too. I can't imagine it, I kind +of wish I could. Can't I go and tell Connie and Lark? I want to tell +somebody!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, tell them. We decided not to let you know just yet, but +since—yes, tell them, and bring them up to see it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> + +<p>Carol kissed her again, and went out, gently closing the door behind +her. In the hallway she stopped and stared at the wall for an unseeing +moment. Then she clenched and shook a stern white fist at the door.</p> + +<p>"I don't care," she muttered, "they're not good enough for Prudence and +Fairy! They're not! I just believe I despise men, all of 'em, unless +it's daddy and Duck!" She smiled a little and then looked grim once +more. "Eugene Babler, and a little queen like Fairy! I think that must +be Heaven's notion of a joke." She sighed again. "Oh, well, it's +something to have something to tell! I'm glad I found it out ahead of +Lark!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>LARK'S LITERARY VENTURE</h3> + + +<p><big><b>A</b></big>S COMMENCEMENT drew near, and Fairy began planning momentous things for +her graduation, a little soberness came into the parsonage life. The +girls were certainly growing up. Prudence had been married a long, long +time. Fairy was being graduated from college, her school-days were over, +and life was just across the threshold—its big black door just slightly +ajar waiting for her to press it back and catch a glimpse of what lay +beyond, yes, there was a rosy tinge showing faintly through like the +light of the early sun shining through the night-fog, but the door was +only a little ajar! And Fairy was nearly ready to step through. It +disturbed the parsonage family a great deal.</p> + +<p>Even the twins were getting along. They were finishing high school, and +beginning to prate of col<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>lege and such things, but the twins were +still, well, they were growing up, perhaps, but they kept jubilantly +young along in the process, and their enthusiasm for diplomas and +ice-cream sodas was so nearly identical that one couldn't feel seriously +that the twins were tugging at their leashes.</p> + +<p>And Connie was a freshman herself,—rather tall, a little awkward, with +a sober earnest face, and with an incongruously humorous droop to the +corners of her lips, and in the sparkle of her eyes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Starr looked at them and sighed. "I tell you, Grace, it's a +thankless job, rearing a family. Connie told me to-day that my collars +should have straight edges now instead of turned-back corners. And Lark +reminded me that I got my points mixed up in last Sunday's lesson. I'm +getting sick of this family business, I'm about ready to—"</p> + +<p>And just then, as a clear "Father" came floating down the stairway, he +turned his head alertly. "What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"Everybody's out," came Carol's plaintive voice. "Will you come and +button me up? I can't ask auntie to run clear up here, and I can't come +down because I'm in my stocking feet. My new slippers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> pinch so I don't +put them on until I have to. Oh, thanks, father, you're a dear."</p> + +<p>After the excitement of the commencement, the commotion, the glamour, +the gaiety, ordinary parsonage life seemed smooth and pleasant, and for +ten days there was not a ruffle on the surface of their domestic waters. +It was on the tenth day that the twins, strolling down Main Street, +conversing earnestly together as was their custom, were accosted by a +nicely-rounded, pompous man with a cordial, "Hello, twins."</p> + +<p>In an instant they were bright with smiles, for this was Mr. Raider, +editor and owner of the <i>Daily News</i>, the biggest and most popular of +Mount Mark's three daily papers. Looking forward, as they did, to a +literary career for Lark, they never failed to show a touching and +unnatural deference to any one connected, even ever so remotely, with +that profession. Indeed, Carol, with the charm of her smile, had +bewitched the small carriers to the last lad, and in reply to her +sister's teasing, only answered stoutly, "That's all right,—you don't +know what they may turn into one of these days. We've got to look ahead +to Lark's Literary Career."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> + +<p>So when humble carriers, and some of them black at that, received such +sweet attention, one can well imagine what the nicely rounded, pompous +editor himself called forth.</p> + +<p>They did not resent his nicely-rounded and therefore pointless jokes. +They smiled at them. They did not call the <i>Daily News</i> the "Raider +Family Organ," as they yearned to do. They did not admit that they urged +their father to put Mr. Raider on all church committees to insure +publicity. They swallowed hard, and told themselves that, after all, Mr. +Raider was an editor, and perhaps he couldn't help editing his own +family to the exclusion of the rest of Mount Mark.</p> + +<p>When, on this occasion, he looked Lark up and down with his usual rotund +complacency, Carol only gritted her teeth and reminded her heaving soul +that he was an editor.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do this summer, Lark?" he asked, without +preamble.</p> + +<p>"Why,—just nothing, I suppose. As usual."</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, frowning plumply, "we're running short of men. I've +heard you're interested in our line, and I thought maybe you could help +us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> out during vacation. How about it? The work'll be easy and it'll be +fine experience for you. We'll pay you five dollars a week. This is a +little town, and we're called a little publication, but our work and our +aim and methods are identical with those of the big city papers." He +swelled visibly, almost alarmingly. "How about it? You're the one with +the literary longings, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>Lark was utterly speechless. If the National Bank had opened its coffers +to the always hard-pressed twins, she could not have been more +completely confounded. Carol was in a condition nearly as serious, but +grasping the gravity of the situation, she rushed into the breach +headlong.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—yes," she gasped. "She's literary. Oh, she's very literary."</p> + +<p>Mr. Raider smiled. "Well, would you like to try your hand out with me?"</p> + +<p>Again Carol sprang to her sister's relief.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, she would," she cried. "Yes, indeed." And then, determined +to impress upon him that the <i>Daily News</i> was the one to profit chiefly +from the innovation, she added, "And it's a lucky<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> day for the <i>Daily +News</i>, too, I tell you. There aren't many Larks in Mount Mark, in a +literary way, I mean, and—the <i>Daily News</i> needs some—that is, I +think—new blood,—anyhow, Lark will be just fine."</p> + +<p>"All right. Come in, Monday morning at eight, Lark, and I'll set you to +work. It won't be anything very important. You can write up the church +news, and parties, and goings away, and things like that. It'll be good +training. You can study our papers between now and then, to catch our +style."</p> + +<p>Carol lifted her head a little higher. If Mr. Raider thought her +talented twin would be confined to the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'ordinariy'">ordinary</ins> style of the <i>Daily +News</i>, which Carol considered atrociously lacking in any style at all, +he would be most gloriously mistaken, that's certain!</p> + +<p>It is a significant fact that after Mr. Raider went back into the +sanctum of the <i>Daily News</i>, the twins walked along for one full block +without speaking. Such a thing had never happened before in all the +years of their twinship. At the end of the block, Carol turned her head +restlessly. They were eight blocks from home. But the twins couldn't run +on the street, it was so undignified. She looked long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>ingly about for a +buggy bound their way. Even a grocery cart would have been a welcome +though humbling conveyance.</p> + +<p>Lark's starry eyes were lifted to the skies, and her rapt face was +glowing. Carol looked behind her, looked ahead. Then she thought again +of the eight blocks.</p> + +<p>"Lark," she said, "I'm afraid we'll be late for dinner. And auntie told +us to hurry back. Maybe we'd better run."</p> + +<p>Running is a good expression for emotion, and Lark promptly struck out +at a pace that did full credit to her lithe young limbs. Down the street +they raced, little tendrils of hair flying about their flushed and +shining faces, faster, faster, breathless, panting, their gladness +fairly overflowing. And many people turned to look, wondering what in +the world possessed the leisurely, dignified parsonage twins.</p> + +<p>The last block was traversed at a really alarming rate. The passion for +"telling things" had seized them both, and they whirled around the +corner and across the lawn at a rate that brought Connie out into the +yard to meet them, with a childish, "What's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> the matter? What happened? +Did something bite you?"</p> + +<p>Aunt Grace sat up in her hammock to look, Fairy ran out to the porch, +and Mr. Starr laid down his book. Had the long and dearly desired war +been declared at last?</p> + +<p>But when the twins reached the porch, they paused sheepishly, shyly.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" chorused the family.</p> + +<p>"Are—are we late for dinner?" Carol demanded earnestly, as though their +lives depended on the answer.</p> + +<p>The family stared in concerted amazement. When before this had the twins +shown anxiety about their lateness for meals—unless a favorite dessert +or salad was all consumed in their absence. And it was only half past +four!</p> + +<p>Carol gently shoved Connie off the cushion upon which she had dropped, +and arranged it tenderly in a chair.</p> + +<p>"Sit down and rest, Larkie," she said in a soft and loving voice. "Are +you nearly tired to death?"</p> + +<p>Lark sank, panting, into the chair, and gazed about the circle with +brilliant eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Get her a drink, can't you, Connie?" said Carol indignantly. "Can't you +see the poor thing is just tired to death? She ran the whole way home!"</p> + +<p>Still the family stared. The twins' devotion to each other was never +failing, but this attentiveness on the part of Carol was extremely odd. +Now she sat down on the step beside her sister, and gazed up into the +flushed face with adoring, but somewhat patronizing, pride. After all, +she had had a whole lot to do with training Larkie!</p> + +<p>"What in the world?" began their father curiously.</p> + +<p>"Had a sunstroke?" queried Fairy, smiling.</p> + +<p>"You're both crazy," declared Connie, coming back with the water. +"You're trying to fool us. I won't ask any questions. You don't catch me +this time."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you lie down and let Lark use you for a footstool, Carol?" +suggested their father, with twinkling eyes.</p> + +<p>"I would if she wanted a footstool," said Carol positively. "I'd love to +do it. I'd be proud to do it. I'd consider it an honor."</p> + +<p>Lark blushed and lowered her eyes modestly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What happened?" urged their father, still more curiously.</p> + +<p>"Did she get you out of a scrape?" mocked Fairy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, just let 'em alone," said Connie. "They think it's smart to be +mysterious. Nothing happened at all. That's what they call being funny."</p> + +<p>"Tell it, Lark." Carol's voice was so intense that it impressed even +skeptical Connie and derisive Fairy.</p> + +<p>Lark raised the glowing eyes once more, leaned forward and said +thrillingly:</p> + +<p>"It's the Literary Career."</p> + +<p>The silence that followed this bold announcement was sufficiently +dramatic to satisfy even Carol, and she patted Lark's knee approvingly.</p> + +<p>"Well, go on," urged Connie, at last, when the twins continued silent.</p> + +<p>"That's all."</p> + +<p>"She's going to run the <i>Daily News</i>."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll only be a cub reporter, I guess that's what you call them."</p> + +<p>"Reporter nothing," contradicted Carol. "There's nothing literary about +that. You must take the whole paper in hand, and color it up a bit. And +for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> goodness' sake, polish up Mr. Raider's editorials. I could write +editorials like his myself."</p> + +<p>"And you might tone down the family notes for him," suggested Fairy. "We +don't really care to know when Mrs. Kelly borrows eggs of the editor's +wife and how many dolls Betty got for Christmas and Jack's grades in +high school. We can get along without those personal touches."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you can give us a little church write-up now and then, without +necessitating Mr. Raider as chairman of every committee," interposed +their father, and then retracted quickly. "I was only joking, of course, +I didn't mean—"</p> + +<p>"No, of course, you didn't, father," said Carol kindly. "We'll consider +that you didn't say it. But just bear it in mind, Larkie."</p> + +<p>Fairy solemnly rose and crossed the porch, and with a hand on Lark's +shoulder gave her a solemn shake. "Now, Lark Starr, you begin at the +beginning and tell us. Do you think we're all wooden Indians? We can't +wait until you make a newspaper out of the <i>Daily News</i>! We want to +know. Talk."</p> + +<p>Thus adjured, Lark did talk, and the little story<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> with many striking +embellishments from Carol was given into the hearing of the family.</p> + +<p>"Five dollars a week," echoed Connie faintly.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I'll divide that with Carol," was the generous offer.</p> + +<p>"No, I won't have it. I haven't any literary brains, and I can't take +any of your salary. Thanks just the same." Then she added happily: "But +I know you'll be very generous when I need to borrow, and I do borrow +pretty often, Larkie."</p> + +<p>For the rest of the week Lark's literary career was the one topic of +conversation in the Starr family. The <i>Daily News</i> became a sort of +literary center piece, and the whole parsonage revolved enthusiastically +around it. Lark's clothes were put in the most immaculate condition, and +her wardrobe greatly enriched by donations pressed upon her by her +admiring sisters. Every evening the younger girls watched impatiently +for the carrier of the <i>Daily News</i>, and then rushed to meet him. The +paper was read with avid interest, criticized, commended. They all +admitted that Lark would be an acquisition to the editorial force, +indeed, one sorely needed. They begged her to give Mount Mark<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> the news +while it was news, without waiting to find what the other Republican +papers of the state <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'though'">thought</ins> about it. Why, the instructions and sisterly +advice and editorial improvements poured into the ears of patient Lark +would have made an archangel giddy with confusion!</p> + +<p>During those days, Carol followed Lark about with a hungry devotion that +would have been observed by her sister on a less momentous occasion. But +now she was so full of the darling Career that she overlooked the once +most-darling Carol. On Monday morning, Carol did not remain up-stairs +with Lark as she donned her most businesslike dress for her initiation +into the world of literature. Instead, she sulked grouchily in the +dining-room, and when Lark, radiant, star-eyed, danced into the room for +the family's approval, she almost glowered upon her.</p> + +<p>"Am I all right? Do I look literary? Oh, oh," gurgled Lark, with music +in her voice.</p> + +<p>Carol sniffed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, isn't it a glorious morning?" sang Lark again. "Isn't everything +wonderful, father?"</p> + +<p>"Lark Starr," cried Carol passionately, "I should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> think you'd be +ashamed of yourself. It's bad enough to turn your back on your—your +life-long twin, and raise barriers between us, but for you to be so +wildly happy about it is—perfectly wicked."</p> + +<p>Lark wheeled about abruptly and stared at her sister, the fire slowly +dying out of her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why, Carol," she began slowly, in a low voice, without music.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right. You needn't try to talk me over. A body'd think +there was nothing in the world but ugly old newspapers. I don't like +'em, anyhow. I think they're downright nosey! And we'll never be the +same any more, Larkie, and you're the only twin I've got, and—"</p> + +<p>Carol's defiance ended in a poorly suppressed sob and a rush of tears.</p> + +<p>Lark threw her gloves on the table.</p> + +<p>"I won't go at all," she said. "I won't go a step. If—if you think for +a minute, Carol, that any silly old Career is going to be any dearer to +me than you are, and if we aren't going to be just as we've always been, +I won't go a step."</p> + +<p>Carol wiped her eyes. "Well," she said very affectionately, "if you feel +like that, it's all right. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> just wanted you to say you liked me better +than anything else. Of course you must go, Lark. I really take all the +credit for you and your talent to myself, and it's as much an honor for +me as it is for you, and I want you to go. But don't you ever go to +liking the crazy old stories any better than you do me."</p> + +<p>Then she picked up Lark's gloves, and the two went out with an arm +around each other's waist.</p> + +<p>It was a dreary morning for Carol, but none of her sisters knew that +most of it was spent in the closet of her room, sobbing bitterly. "It's +just the way of the world," she mourned, in the tone of one who has +lived many years and suffered untold anguish, "we spend our lives +bringing them up, and loving them, and finding all our joy and happiness +in them, and then they go, and we are left alone."</p> + +<p>Lark's morning at the office was quiet, but none the less thrilling on +that account. Mr. Raider received her cordially, and with a great deal +of unctuous fatherly advice. He took her into his office, which was one +corner of the press room glassed in by itself, and talked over her +duties, which, as far<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> as Lark could gather from his discourse, appeared +to consist in doing as she was told.</p> + +<p>"Now, remember," he said, in part, "that running a newspaper is +business. Pure business. We've got to give folks what they want to hear, +and they want to hear everything that happens. Of course, it will hurt +some people, it is not pleasant to have private affairs aired in public +papers, but that's the newspaper job. Folks want to hear about the +private affairs of other folks. They pay us to find out, and tell them, +and it's our duty to do it. So don't ever be squeamish about coming +right out blunt with the plain facts; that's what we are paid for."</p> + +<p>This did not seriously impress Lark. Theoretically, she realized that he +was right. And he talked so impressively of THE PRESS, and its mission +in the world, and its rights and its pride and its power, that Lark, +looking away with hope-filled eyes, saw a high and mighty figure, +immense, all-powerful, standing free, majestic, beckoning her to come. +It was her first view of the world's PRESS.</p> + +<p>But on the fourth morning, when she entered the office, Mr. Raider met +her with more excitement<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> in his manner than she had ever seen before. +As a rule, excitement does not sit well on nicely-rounded, pink-skinned +men.</p> + +<p>"Lark," he began hurriedly, "do you know the Dalys? On Elm Street?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they are members of our church. I know them."</p> + +<p>He leaned forward. "Big piece of news down that way. This morning at +breakfast, Daly shot his daughter Maisie and the little boy. They are +both dead. Daly got away, and we can't get at the bottom of it. The +family is shut off alone, and won't see any one."</p> + +<p>Lark's face had gone white, and she clasped her slender hands together, +swaying, quivering, bright lights before her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh!" she murmured brokenly. "Oh, how awful!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Raider did not observe the white horror in Lark's face. "Yes, isn't +it?" he said. "I want you to go right down there."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," said Lark, though she shivered at the thought. "Of +course, I will." Lark was a minister's daughter. If people were in +trouble, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> must go, of course. "Isn't it—awful? I never knew +of—such a thing—before. Maisie was in my class at school. I never +liked her very well. I'm so sorry I didn't,—oh, I'm so sorry. Yes, I'll +go right away. You'd better call papa up and tell him to come, too."</p> + +<p>"I will, but you run along. Being the minister's daughter, they'll let +you right up. They'll tell you all about it, of course. Don't talk to +any one on the way back. Come right to the office. Don't stay any longer +than you can help, but get everything they will say about it, +and—er—comfort them as much as you can."</p> + +<p>"Yes,—yes." Lark's face was frightened, but firm. "I—I've never gone +to the houses much when—there was trouble. Prudence and Fairy have +always done that. But of course it's right, and I'm going. Oh, I do wish +I had been fonder of Maisie. I'll go right away."</p> + +<p>And she hurried away, still quivering, a cold chill upon her. Three +hours later she returned to the office, her eyes dark circled, and red +with weeping. Mr. Raider met her at the door.</p> + +<p>"Did you see them?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," she said in a low voice. "They—they took me up-stairs, and—" +She paused pitifully, the memory strong upon her, for the woman, the +mother of five children, two of whom had been struck down, had lain in +Lark's strong tender arms, and sobbed out the ugly story.</p> + +<p>"Did they tell you all about it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they told me. They told me."</p> + +<p>"Come on into my office," he said. "You must write it up while it is +fresh in your mind. You'll do it better while the feeling is on you."</p> + +<p>Lark gazed at him stupidly, not comprehending.</p> + +<p>"Write it up?" she repeated confusedly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, for the paper. How they looked, what they said, how it +happened,—everything. We want to scoop on it."</p> + +<p>"But I don't think they—would want it told," Lark gasped.</p> + +<p>"Oh, probably not, but people want to know about it. Don't you remember +what I told you? The PRESS is a powerful task master. He asks hard +duties of us, but we must obey. We've got to give the people what they +want. There's a reporter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> down from Burlington already, but he couldn't +get anything out of them. We've got a clear scoop on it."</p> + +<p>Lark glanced fearfully over her shoulder. A huge menacing shadow lowered +black behind her. THE PRESS! She shuddered again.</p> + +<p>"I can't write it up," she faltered. "Mrs. Daly—she—Oh, I held her in +my arms, Mr. Raider, and kissed her, and we cried all morning, and I +can't write it up. I—I am the minister's daughter, you know. I can't."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, now, Lark," he said, "be sensible. You needn't give all the +sob part. I'll touch it up for you. Just write out what you saw, and +what they said, and I'll do the rest. Run along now. Be sensible."</p> + +<p>Lark glanced over her shoulder again. The PRESS seemed tremendously big, +leering at her, threatening her. Lark gasped, sobbingly.</p> + +<p>Then she sat down at Mr. Raider's desk, and drew a pad of paper toward +her. For five minutes she sat immovable, body tense, face stern, +breathless, rigid. Mr. Raider after one curious, satisfied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> glance, +slipped out and closed the door softly after him. He felt he could trust +to the newspaper instinct to get that story out of her.</p> + +<p>Finally Lark, despairingly, clutched a pencil and wrote</p> + +<p class="center">"Terrible Tragedy of the Early Morning. +Daly Family Crushed with Sorrow." + +Her mind passed rapidly back over the story she had heard, the father's +occasional wild bursts of temper, the pitiful efforts of the family to +keep his weakness hidden, the insignificant altercation at the breakfast +table, the cry of the startled baby, and then the sudden ungovernable +fury that lashed him, the two children—! Lark shuddered! She glanced +over her shoulder again. The fearful dark shadow was very close, very +terrible, ready to envelope her in its smothering depths. She sprang to +her feet and rushed out of the office. Mr. <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Daly'">Raider</ins> was in the doorway. +She flung herself upon him, crushing the paper in his hand.</p> + +<p>"I can't," she cried, looking in terror over her shoulder as she spoke, +"I can't. I don't want to be a newspaper woman. I don't want any +literary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> career. I am a minister's daughter, Mr. Raider, I can't talk +about people's troubles. I want to go home."</p> + +<p>Mr. Raider looked searchingly into the white face, and noted the +frightened eyes. "There now," he said soothingly, "never mind the Daly +story. I'll cover it myself. I guess it was too hard an assignment to +begin with, and you a friend of the family, and all. Let it go. You stay +at home this afternoon. Come back to-morrow and I'll start you again. +Maybe I was too hard on you to-day."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to," she cried, looking back at the shadow, which seemed +somehow to have receded a little. "I don't want to be a newspaper woman. +I think I'll be the other kind of writer,—not newspapers, you know, +just plain writing. I'm sure I shall like it better. I wasn't cut out +for this line, I know. I want to go now."</p> + +<p>"Run along," he said. "I'll see you later on. You go to bed. You're +nearly sick."</p> + +<p>Dignity? Lark did not remember that she had ever dreamed of dignity. She +just started for home, for her father, Aunt Grace and the girls! The +shabby old parsonage seemed suddenly very bright, very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> sunny, very +safe. The dreadful dark shadow was not pressing so close to her +shoulders, did not feel so smotheringly near.</p> + +<p>A startled group sprang up from the porch to greet her. She flung one +arm around Carol's shoulder, and drew her twin with her close to her +aunt's side. "I don't want to be a newspaper woman," she cried, in a +high excited voice. "I don't like it. I am awfully afraid of—THE +PRESS—" She looked over her shoulder. The shadow was fading away in the +distance. "I couldn't do it. I—" And then, crouching, with Carol, close +against her aunt's side, clutching one of the soft hands in her own, she +told the story.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't, Fairy," she declared, looking beseechingly into the strong +kind face of her sister. "I—couldn't. Mrs. Daly—sobbed so, and her +hands were so brown and hard, Fairy, she kept rubbing my shoulder, and +saying, 'Oh, Lark, oh, Lark, my little children.' I couldn't. I don't +like newspapers, Fairy. Really, I don't."</p> + +<p>Fairy looked greatly troubled. "I wish father were at home," she said +very quietly. "Mr. Raider meant all right, of course, but it was wrong +to send<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> a young girl like you. Father is there now. It's very terrible. +You did just exactly right, Larkie. Father will say so. I guess maybe +it's not the job for a minister's girl. Of course, the story will come +out, but we're not the ones to tell it."</p> + +<p>"But—the Career," suggested Carol.</p> + +<p>"Why," said Lark, "I'll wait a little and then have a real literary +career, you know, stories, and books, and poems, the kind that don't +harrow people's feelings. I really don't think it is right. Don't you +remember Prudence says the parsonage is a place to hide sorrows, not to +hang them on the clothesline for every one to see." She looked for a +last time over her shoulder. Dimly she saw a small dark cloud,—all that +was left of the shadow which had seemed so eager to devour her. Her arms +clasped Carol with renewed intensity.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she breathed, "oh, isn't the parsonage lovely, Carol? I wish +father would come. You all look so sweet, and kind, and—oh, I love to +be at home."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>A CLEAR CALL</h3> + + +<p><big><b>T</b></big>HE tinkle of the telephone disturbed the family as they were at dinner, +and Connie, who sat nearest, rose to answer the summons, while Carol, at +her corner of the table struck a tragic attitude.</p> + +<p>"If Joe Graves has broken anything, he's broken our friendship for good +and all. These fellows that break themselves—"</p> + +<p>"Break themselves?" asked her father gravely.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—any of his members, you know, his leg, or his arm, or,—If he +has, I must say frankly that I hope it is his neck. These boys that +break themselves at the last minute, thereby breaking dates, are—"</p> + +<p>"Well," Connie said calmly, "if you're through, I'll begin."</p> + +<p>"Oh, goodness, Connie, deafen one ear and listen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> with the other. You've +got to learn to hear in a hubbub. Go on then, I'm through. But I haven't +forgotten that I missed the Thanksgiving banquet last year because Phil +broke his ankle that very afternoon on the ice. What business had he on +the ice when he had a date—"</p> + +<p>"Ready?" asked Connie, as the phone rang again, insistently.</p> + +<p>"Go on, then. Don't wait until I get started. Answer it."</p> + +<p>Connie removed the receiver and called the customary "Hello." Then, +"Yes, just a minute. It's for you, Carol."</p> + +<p>Carol rose darkly. "It's Joe," she said in a dungeon-dark voice. "He's +broken, I foresee it. If there's anything I despise and abominate it's a +breaker of dates. I think it ought to be included among the +condemnations in the decalogue. Men have no business being broken, +except their hearts, when girls are mixed up in it.—Hello?—Oh; oh-h-h! +Yes,—it's professor! How are you?—Yes, indeed,—oh, yes, I'm going to +be home. Yes, indeed. Come about eight. Of course I'll be here,—nothing +important,—it didn't amount to anything<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> at all,—just a little old +every-day affair.—Yes, I can arrange it nicely.—We're so anxious to +see you.—All right,—Good-by."</p> + +<p>She turned back to the table, her face flushed, eyes shining. "It's +professor! He's in town just overnight, and he's coming out. I'll have +to phone Joe—"</p> + +<p>"Anything I despise and abominate it's a breaker of dates," chanted +Connie; "ought to be condemned in the decalogue."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's different," explained Carol. "This is professor! Besides, +this will sort of even up for the Thanksgiving banquet last year."</p> + +<p>"But that was Phil and this is Joe!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right. It's just the principle, you know, nothing +personal about it. Seven-six-two, please. Yes. Seven-six-two? Is Joe +there? Oh, hello, Joe. Oh, Joe, I'm so sorry to go back on you the last +minute like this, but one of my old school-teachers is in town just for +to-night and is coming here, and of course I can't leave. I'm so sorry. +I've been looking forward to it for so long, but—oh, that is nice of +you. You'll forgive me this once, won't you? Oh, thanks, Joe, you're so +kind."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hurry up and phone Roy, Larkie. You'll have to break yours, too."</p> + +<p>Lark immediately did so, while Carol stood thoughtfully beside the +table, her brows puckered unbecomingly.</p> + +<p>"I think," she said at last slowly, with wary eyes on her father's quiet +face, "I think I'll let the tuck out of my old rose dress. It's too +short."</p> + +<p>"Too short! Why, Carol—" interrupted her aunt.</p> + +<p>"Too short for the occasion, I mean. I'll put it back to-morrow." Once +more her eyes turned cautiously father-ward. "You see, professor still +has the 'little twinnie' idea in his brain, and I'm going to get it out. +It isn't consistent with our five feet seven. We're grown up. Professor +has got to see it. You skoot up-stairs, Connie, won't you, there's a +dear, and bring it down, both of them, Lark's too. Lark,—where did you +put that ripping knife? Aunt Grace, will you put the iron on for me? +It's perfectly right that professor should see we're growing up. We'll +have to emphasize it something extra, or he might overlook it. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> makes +him feel Methuselish because he's so awfully smart. But I'll soon change +his mind for him."</p> + +<p>Lark stoutly refused to be "grown up for the occasion," as Carol put it. +She said it was too much bother to let out the tuck, and then put it +right back in, just for nonsense. At first this disappointed Carol, but +finally she accepted it gracefully.</p> + +<p>"All right," she said, "I guess I can grow up enough for both of us. +Professor is not stupid; if he sees I'm a young lady, he'll naturally +know that you are, too, since we are twins. You can help me rip then if +you like,—you begin around on that side."</p> + +<p>In less than two minutes the whole family was engaged in growing Carol +up for the occasion. They didn't see any sense in it, but Carol seemed +so unalterably convinced that it was necessary that they hated to +question her motives. And, as was both habitual and comfortable, they +proceeded to do as she directed.</p> + +<p>If her idea had been utterly to dumfound the unsuspecting professor, she +succeeded admirably. Carefully she planned her appearance, giving him +just the proper interval of patient waiting in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> presence of her aunt +and sisters. Then, a slow parting of the curtains and Carol stood out, +brightly, gladly, her slender hands held out in welcome, Carol, with +long skirts swishing around her white-slippered feet, her slender throat +rising cream-white above the soft fold of old rose lace, her graceful +head with its royal crown of bronze-gold hair, tilted most charmingly.</p> + +<p>The professor sprang to his feet and stared at her. "Why, Carol," he +exclaimed soberly, almost sadly, as he crossed the room and took her +hand. "Why, Carol! Whatever have you been doing to yourself overnight?"</p> + +<p>Of course, it was far more "overnight" than the professor knew, but +Carol saw to it that there was nothing to arouse his suspicion on that +score. He lifted her hand high, and looked frankly down the long lines +of her skirt, with the white toes of her slippers showing beneath. He +shook his head. And though he smiled again, his voice was sober.</p> + +<p>"I'm beginning to feel my age," he said.</p> + +<p>This was not what Carol wanted, and she resumed her old childish manner +with a gleeful laugh.</p> + +<p>"What on earth are you doing in Mount Mark<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> again, P'fessor!" When Carol +wished to be particularly coy, she said "p'fessor." It didn't sound +exactly cultured, but spoken in Carol's voice was really irresistible.</p> + +<p>"Why, I came to see you before your hair turned gray, and wrinkles +marred you—"</p> + +<p>"Wrinkles won't mar mine," cried Carol emphatically. "Not ever! I use up +a whole jar of cold cream every three weeks! I won't have 'em. Wrinkles! +P'fessor, you don't know what a time I have keeping myself young."</p> + +<p>She joined in the peal of laughter that rang out as this age-wise +statement fell from her lips.</p> + +<p>"You'll be surprised," he said, "what does bring me to Mount Mark. I +have given up my position in New York, and am going to school again in +Chicago this winter. I shall be here only to-night. To-morrow I begin to +study again."</p> + +<p>"Going to school again!" ejaculated Carol, and all the others looked at +him astonished. "Going to school again. Why, you know enough, now!"</p> + +<p>"Think so? Thanks. But I don't know what I'm going to need from this on. +I am changing my line of work. The fact is, I'm going to enter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> the +ministry myself, and will have a couple of years in a theological +seminary first."</p> + +<p>Utter stupefaction greeted this explanation. Not one word was spoken.</p> + +<p>"I've been going into these things rather deeply the last two years. +I've attended a good many special meetings, and taken some studies along +with my regular work. For a year I've felt it would finally come to +this, but I preferred my own job, and I thought I would stick it out, as +Carol says. But I've decided to quit balking, and answer the call."</p> + +<p>Aunt Grace nodded, with a warmly approving smile.</p> + +<p>"I think it's perfectly grand, Professor," said Fairy earnestly. +"Perfectly splendid. You will do it wonderfully well, I know, and be a +big help—in our business."</p> + +<p>"But, Professor," said Carol faintly and falteringly, "didn't you tell +me you were to get five thousand dollars a year with the institute from +this on?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I was."</p> + +<p>Carol gazed at her family despairingly. "It would take an awfully loud +call to drown the chink<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> of five thousand gold dollars in my ears, I am +afraid."</p> + +<p>"It was a loud call," he said. And he looked at her curiously, for of +all the family she alone seemed distrait and unenthusiastic.</p> + +<p>"Professor," she continued anxiously, "I heard one of the bishops say +that sometimes young men thought they were called to the ministry when +it was too much mince pie for dinner."</p> + +<p>"I did not have mince pie for dinner," he answered, smiling, but +conscious of keen disappointment in his friend.</p> + +<p>"But, Professor," she argued, "can't people do good without preaching? +Think of all the lovely things you could do with five thousand dollars! +Think of the influence a prominent educator has! Think of—"</p> + +<p>"I have thought of it, all of it. But haven't I got to answer the call?"</p> + +<p>"It takes nerve to do it, too," said Connie approvingly. "I know just +how it is from my own experience. Of course, I haven't been called to +enter the ministry, but—it works out the same in other things."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Indeed, Professor," said Lark, "we always said you were too nice for +any ordinary job. And the ministry is about the only extraordinary job +there is!"</p> + +<p>"Tell us all about it," said Fairy cordially. "We are so interested in +it. Of course, we think it is the finest work in the world." She looked +reproachfully at Carol, but Carol made no response.</p> + +<p>He told them, then, something of his plan, which was very simple. He had +arranged for a special course at the seminary in Chicago, and then would +enter the ministry like any other young man starting upon his life-work. +"I'm a Presbyterian, you know," he said. "I'll have to go around and +preach until I find a church willing to put up with me. I won't have a +presiding elder to make a niche for me."</p> + +<p>He talked frankly, even with enthusiasm, but always he felt the curious +disappointment that Carol sat there silent, her eyes upon the hands in +her lap. Once or twice she lifted them swiftly to his face, and lowered +them instantly again. Only he noticed when they were raised, that they +were unusually deep, and that something lay within shining bright<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>ly, +like the reflection of a star in a clear dark pool of water.</p> + +<p>"I must go now," he said, "I must have a little visit with my uncle, I +just wanted to see you, and tell you about it. I knew you would like +it."</p> + +<p>Carol's hand was the first placed in his, and she murmured an inaudible +word of farewell, her eyes downcast, and turned quickly away. "Don't let +them wait for me," she whispered to Lark, and then she disappeared.</p> + +<p>The professor turned away from the hospitable door very much depressed. +He shook his head impatiently and thrust his hands deep into his pockets +like a troubled boy. Half-way down the board walk he stopped, and +smiled. Carol was standing among the rose bushes, tall and slim in the +cloudy moonlight, waiting for him. She held out her hand with a friendly +smile.</p> + +<p>"I came to take you a piece if you want me," she said. "It's so hard to +talk when there's a roomful, isn't it? I thought maybe you wouldn't +mind."</p> + +<p>"Mind? It was dear of you to think of it," he said gratefully, drawing +her hand into the curve of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> his arm. "I was wishing I could talk with +you alone. You won't be cold?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, I like to be out in the night air. Oh," she protested, when he +turned north from the parsonage instead of south, as he should have +gone, "I only came for a piece, you know. And you want to visit with +your uncle." The long lashes hid the twinkle the professor knew was +there, though he could not see it.</p> + +<p>"Yes, all right. But we'll walk a little way first. I'll visit him later +on. Or I can write him a letter if necessary." He felt at peace with all +the world. His resentment toward Carol had vanished at the first glimpse +of her friendly smile.</p> + +<p>"I want to talk to you about being a preacher, you know. I think it is +the most wonderful thing in the world, I certainly do." Her eyes were +upon his face now seriously. "I didn't say much, I was surprised, and I +was ashamed, too, Professor, for I never could do it in the world. +Never! It always makes me feel cheap and exasperated when I see how much +nicer other folks are than I. But I do think it is wonderful. Really +sometimes, I have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> thought you ought to be a preacher, because you're so +nice. So many preachers aren't, and that's the kind we need."</p> + +<p>The professor put his other hand over Carol's, which was restlessly +fingering the crease in his sleeve. He did not speak. Her girlish, +impulsive words touched him very deeply.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't want the girls to know it, they'd think it was so funny, +but—" She paused uncertainly, and looked questioningly into his face. +"Maybe you won't understand what I mean, but sometimes I'd like to be +good myself. Awfully good, I mean." She smiled whimsically. "Wouldn't +Connie scream if she could hear that? Now you won't give me away, will +you? But I mean it. I don't think of it very often, but sometimes, why, +Professor, honestly, I wouldn't care if I were as good as Prudence!" She +paused dramatically, and the professor pressed the slender hand more +closely in his.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't worry about it. I suppose one hasn't <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'ny'">any</ins> business to expect +a good complexion and just natural goodness, both at once, but—" She +smiled again. "Five thousand dollars," she added dream<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>ily. "Five +thousand dollars! What shall I call you now? P'fesser is not appropriate +any more, is it?"</p> + +<p>"Call me David, won't you, Carol? Or Dave."</p> + +<p>Carol gasped. "Oh, mercy! What would Prudence say?" She giggled merrily. +"Oh, mercy!" She was silent a moment then. "I'll have to be contented +with plain Mr. Duke, I suppose, until you get a D.D. Duckie, D.D.," she +added laughingly. But in an instant she was sober again. "I do love our +job. If I were a man I'd be a minister myself. Reverend Carol Starr," +she said loftily, then laughed. Carol's laughter always followed fast +upon her earnest words. "Reverend Carol Starr. Wouldn't I be a peach?"</p> + +<p>He laughed, too, recovering his equanimity as her customary buoyant +brightness returned to her.</p> + +<p>"You are," he said, and Carol answered:</p> + +<p>"Thanks," very dryly. "We must go back now," she added presently. And +they turned at once, walking slowly back toward the parsonage.</p> + +<p>"Can't you write to me a little oftener, Carol? I hate to be a bother, +but my uncle never writes letters, and I like to know how my friends +here are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> getting along, marriages, and deaths, and just plain gossip. +I'll like it very much if you can. I do enjoy a good correspondence +with—"</p> + +<p>"Do you?" she asked sweetly. "How you have changed! When I was a +freshman I remember you told me you received nothing but business +letters, because you didn't want to take time to write letters, and—"</p> + +<p>"Did I?" For a second he seemed a little confused. "Well, I'm not crazy +about writing letters, as such. But I'll be so glad to get yours that I +know I'll even enjoy answering them."</p> + +<p>Inside the parsonage gate they stood a moment among the rose bushes. +Once again she offered her hand, and he took it gravely, looking with +sober intentness into her face, a little pale in the moonlight. He noted +again the royal little head with its grown-up crown of hair, and the +slender figure with its grown-up length of skirt.</p> + +<p>Then he put his arms around her, and kissed her warmly upon the childish +unexpecting lips.</p> + +<p>A swift red flooded her face, and receding as swiftly, left her pale. +Her lips quivered a little, and she caught her hands together. Then +sturdily, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> only slightly tremulous, she looked into his eyes and +laughed. The professor was in nowise deceived by her attempt at +light-heartedness, remembering as he did the quick quivering of the lips +beneath his, and the unconscious yielding of the supple body in his +arms. He condemned himself mentally in no uncertain terms for having +yielded to the temptation of her young loveliness. Carol still laughed, +determined by her merriment to set the seal of insignificance upon the +act.</p> + +<p>"Come and walk a little farther, Carol," he said in a low voice. "I want +to say something else." Then after a few minutes of silence, he began +rather awkwardly, and David Arnold Duke was not usually awkward:</p> + +<p>"Carol, you'll think I'm a cad to say what I'm going to, after doing +what I have just done, but I'll have to risk that. You shouldn't let men +kiss you. It isn't right. You're too pretty and sweet and fine for it. I +know you don't allow it commonly, but don't at all. I hate to think of +any one even touching a girl like you."</p> + +<p>Carol leaned forward, tilting back her head, and looking up at him +roguishly, her face a-sparkle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>He blushed more deeply. "Oh, I know it," he said. "I'm ashamed of +myself. But I can't help what you think of me. I do think you shouldn't +let them, and I hope you won't. They're sure to want to."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said quietly, very grown-up indeed just then, "yes, they do. +Aren't men funny? They always want to. Sometimes we hear old women say, +'Men are all alike.' I never believe it. I hate old women who say it. +But—are they all alike, Professor?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said grimly, "they are not. But I suppose any man would like to +kiss a girl as sweet as you are. But men are not all alike. Don't you +believe it. You won't then, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Won't believe it? No."</p> + +<p>"I mean," he said, almost stammering in his confusion, "I mean you won't +let them touch you."</p> + +<p>Carol smiled teasingly, but in a moment she spoke, and very quietly. +"P'fessor, I'll tell you a blood-red secret if you swear up and down +you'll never tell anybody. I've never told even Lark—Well, one night, +when I was a sophomore,—do you remember Bud Garvin?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, tall fellow with black hair and eyes, wasn't he? In the freshman +zoology class."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Well, he took me home from a party. Hartley took Lark, and they +got in first. And Bud, well—he put his arm around me, and—maybe you +don't know it, Professor, but there's a big difference in girls, too. +Now some girls are naturally good. Prudence is, and so's Lark. But Fairy +and I—well, we've got a lot of the original Adam in us. Most girls, +especially in books—nice girls, I mean, and you know I'm nice—they +can't bear to have boys touch them.—P'fessor, I like it, honestly I do, +if I like the boy. Bud's rather nice, and I let him—oh, just a little, +but it made me nervous and excited. But I liked it. Prudence was away, +and I hated to talk to Lark that night so I sneaked in Fairy's room and +asked if I might sleep with her. She said I could, and told me to turn +on the light, it wouldn't disturb her. But I was so hot I didn't want +any light, so I undressed as fast as I could and crept in. Somehow, from +the way I snuggled up to Fairy, she caught on. I was out of breath, +really I was ashamed of myself, but I wasn't just sure then whether I'd +ever let him put his arm around me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> again or not. But Fairy turned over, +and began to talk. Professor," she said solemnly, "Fairy and I always +pretend to be snippy and sarcastic and sneer at each other, but in my +heart, I think Fairy is very nearly as good as Prudence, yes, sir, I do. +Why, Fairy's fine, she's just awfully fine."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm sure she is."</p> + +<p>"She said that once, when she was fifteen, one of the boys at Exminster +kissed her good night. And she didn't mind it a bit. But father was +putting the horses in the barn, and he came out just in time to see it; +it was a moonlight night. After the boys had gone, father hurried in and +took Fairy outdoors for a little talk, just the two of them alone. He +said that in all the years he and my mother were married, every time he +kissed her he remembered that no man but he had ever touched her lips, +and it made him happy. He said he was always sort of thanking God +inside, whenever he held her in his arms. He said nothing else in the +world made a man so proud, and glad and grateful, as to know his wife +was all his own, and that even her lips had been reserved for him like a +sacred treasure that no one else could share. He said it would take the +meanest man on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> earth, and father thinks there aren't many as mean as +that, to go back on a woman like that. Fairy said she burst out crying +because her husband wouldn't ever be able to feel that way when he +kissed her. But father said since she was so young, and innocent, and it +being the first time, it wouldn't really count. Fairy swore off that +minute,—never again! Of course, when I knew how father felt about +mother, I wanted my husband to have as much pleasure in me as father did +in her, and Fairy and I made a solemn resolve that we would never, even +'hold hands,' and that's very simple, until we got crazy enough about a +man to think we'd like to marry him if we got a chance. And I never have +since then, not once."</p> + +<p>"Carol," he said in a low voice, "I wish I had known it. I wouldn't have +kissed you for anything. God knows I wouldn't. I—I think I am man +enough not to have done it anyhow if I had only thought a minute, but +God knows I wouldn't have done it if I had known about this. You don't +know how—contemptible—I feel."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right," she said comfortingly, her eyes glowing. "That's +all right. We just meant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> beaux, you know. We didn't include uncles, and +fathers, and old school-teachers, and things like that. You don't count. +That isn't breaking my pledge."</p> + +<p>The professor smiled, but he remembered the quivering lips, and the +relaxing of the lithe body, and the forced laughter, and was not +deceived.</p> + +<p>"You're such a strange girl, Carol. You're so honest, usually, so +kind-hearted, so generous. But you always seem trying to make yourself +look bad, not physically, that isn't what I mean." Carol smiled, and her +loving fingers caressed her soft cheek. "But you try to make folks think +you are vain and selfish, when you are not. Why do you do it? Every one +knows what you really are. All over Mount Mark they say you are the best +little kid in town."</p> + +<p>"They do!" she said indignantly. "Well, they'd better not. Here I've +spent years building up my reputation to suit myself, and then they go +and shatter me like that. They'd better leave me alone."</p> + +<p>"But what's the object?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you know, P'fessor," she said, carefully choosing her words, "you +know, it's a pretty hard job living up to a good reputation. Look at +Pru<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>dence, and Fairy, and Lark. Every one just naturally expects them to +be angelically and dishearteningly good. And if they aren't, folks talk. +But take me now. No one expects anything of me, and if once in a while, +I do happen to turn out all right by accident, it's a sort of joyful +surprise to the whole community. It's lots more fun surprising folks by +being better than they expect, than shocking them by turning out worse +than they think you will."</p> + +<p>"But it doesn't do you any good," he assured her. "You can't fool them. +Mount Mark knows its Carol."</p> + +<p>"You're not going?" she said, as he released her hand and straightened +the collar of his coat.</p> + +<p>"Yes, your father will chase me off if I don't go now. How about the +letters, Carol? Think you can manage a little oftener?"</p> + +<p>"I'd love to. It's so inspiring to get a letter from a +five-thousand-dollars-a-year scientist, I mean, a was-once. Do my +letters sound all right? I don't want to get too chummy, you know."</p> + +<p>"Get as chummy as you can," he urged her. "I enjoy it."</p> + +<p>"I'll have to be more dignified if you're going to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> McCormick. +Presbyterian! The Presbyterians are very dignified. I'll have to be +formal from this on. Dear Sir: Respectfully yours. Is that proper?"</p> + +<p>He took her hands in his. "Good-by, little pal. Thank you for coming +out, and for telling me the things you have. You have done me good. You +are a breath of fresh sweet air."</p> + +<p>"It's my powder," she said complacently. "It does smell good, doesn't +it? It cost a dollar a box. I borrowed the dollar from Aunt Grace. Don't +let on before father. He thinks we use Mennen's baby—twenty-five cents +a box. We didn't tell him so, but he just naturally thinks it. It was +the breath of that dollar powder you were talking about."</p> + +<p>She moved her fingers slightly in his hand, and he looked down at them. +Then he lifted them and looked again, admiring the slender fingers and +the pink nails.</p> + +<p>"Don't look," she entreated. "They're teaching me things. I can't help +it. This spot on my thumb is fried egg, here are three doughnuts on my +arm,—see them? And here's a regular pancake." She pointed out the +pancake in her palm, sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>"Teaching you things, are they?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes. I have to darn. Look at the tips of my fingers, that's where the +needle rusted off on me. Here's where I cut a slice of bread out of my +thumb! Isn't life serious?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, very serious." He looked thoughtfully down at her hands again as +they lay curled up in his own. "Very, very serious."</p> + +<p>"Good-by."</p> + +<p>"Good-by." He held her hand a moment longer, and then turned suddenly +away. She watched until he was out of sight, and then slipped up-stairs, +undressed in the dark and crept in between the covers. Lark apparently +was sound asleep. Carol giggled softly to herself a few times, and Lark +opened one eye, asking, "What's amatter?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, such a good joke on p'fessor," whispered Carol, squeezing her twin +with rapture. "He doesn't know it yet, but he'll be so disgusted with +himself when he finds it out."</p> + +<p>"What in the world is it?" Lark was more coherent now.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell, Lark, but it's a dandy. My, he'll feel cheap when he +finds out."</p> + +<p>"Maybe he won't find it out."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, he will," was the confident answer, "I'll see that he does." +She began laughing again.</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you, but you'll certainly scream if you ever do know it."</p> + +<p>"You can't tell me?" Lark was wide awake, and quite aghast.</p> + +<p>"No, I can't, I truly can't."</p> + +<p>Lark drew away from the encircling arm with as much dignity as could be +expressed in the dark and in bed, and sent out a series of deep breaths, +as if to indicate that snores were close at hand.</p> + +<p>Carol laughed to herself for a while, until Lark really slept, then she +buried her head in the pillow and her throat swelled with sobs that were +heavy but soundless.</p> + +<p>The next morning was Lark's turn for making the bed. And when she shook +up Carol's pillow she found it was very damp.</p> + +<p>"Why, the little goose," she said to herself, smiling, "she laughed +until she cried, all by herself. And then she turned the pillow over +thinking I wouldn't see it. The little goose! And what on earth was she +laughing at?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>JERRY JUNIOR</h3> + + +<p><big><b>F</b></big>OR some time the twins ignored the atmosphere of solemn mystery which +pervaded their once so cheerful home. But when it finally reached the +limit of their endurance they marched in upon their aunt and Fairy with +an admirable admixture of dignity and indignation in their attitude.</p> + +<p>"Who's haunted?" inquired Carol abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Where's the criminal?" demanded Lark.</p> + +<p>"Yes, little twins, talk English and maybe you'll learn something." And +for the moment the anxious light in Fairy's eyes gave way to a twinkle. +Sad indeed was the day when Fairy could not laugh at the twins.</p> + +<p>"Then, in common vernacular, though it is really beneath us, what's up?"</p> + +<p>Fairy turned innocently inquiring eyes toward the ceiling. "What +indeed?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, don't try to be dramatic, Fairy," counseled Lark. "You're too fat +for a star-Starr."</p> + +<p>The twins beamed at each other approvingly at this, and Fairy smiled. +But Carol returned promptly to the charge. "Are Jerry and Prudence +having domestic difficulties? There's something going on, and we want to +know. Father looks like a fallen Samson, and—"</p> + +<p>"A fallen Samson, Carol! Mercy! Where did you get it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, kind of sheepish, and ashamed, and yet hopeful of returning +strength. That's art, a simile like that is.—Prudence writes every day, +and you hide the letters. And Aunt Grace sneaks around like a convict +with her hand under her apron. And you look as heavy-laden as if you +were carrying Connie's conscience around with you."</p> + +<p>Aunt Grace looked at Fairy, Fairy looked at Aunt Grace. Aunt Grace +raised her eyebrows. Fairy hesitated, nodded, smiled. Slowly then Aunt +Grace drew one hand from beneath her apron and showed to the eagerly +watching twins, a tiny, hand embroidered dress. They stared at it, +fascinated, half<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> frightened, and then looked into the serious faces of +their aunt and sister.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't believe it," whispered Carol. "She's not old enough."</p> + +<p>Aunt Grace smiled.</p> + +<p>"She's older than mother was," said Fairy.</p> + +<p>Lark took the little dress and examined it critically. "The neck's too +small," she announced decidedly. "Nothing could wear that."</p> + +<p>"We're using this for a pattern," said Fairy, lifting a yellowed, much +worn garment from the sewing basket. "I wore this, and so did you and so +did Connie,—my lovely child."</p> + +<p>Carol rubbed her hand about her throat in a puzzled way. "I can't seem +to realize that we ever grew out of that," she said slowly. "Is Prudence +all right?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, just fine."</p> + +<p>The twins looked at each other bashfully. Then, "I'll bet there'll be no +living with Jerry after this," said Lark.</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa," lisped Carol, in a high-pitched voice supposed to represent +the tone of a little child. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> both giggled, and blinked hard to +crowd back the tears that wouldn't stay choked down. Prudence! And that!</p> + +<p>"And see here, twins, Prudence has a crazy notion that she wants to come +home for it. She says she'll be scared in a hospital, and Jerry's +willing to come here with her. What do you think about it?"</p> + +<p>The twins looked doubtful. "They say it ought to be done in a hospital," +announced Carol gravely. "Jerry can afford it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he wanted to. But Prudence has set her heart on coming home. She +says she'll never feel that Jerry Junior got the proper start if it +happens any place else. They'll have a trained nurse."</p> + +<p>"Jerry—what?" gasped the twins, after a short silence due to amazement.</p> + +<p>"Jerry Junior,—that's what they call it."</p> + +<p>"But how on earth do they know?"</p> + +<p>"They don't know. But they have to call it something, haven't they? And +they want a Jerry Junior. So of course they'll get it. For Prudence is +good enough to get whatever she wants."</p> + +<p>"Hum, that's no sign," sniffed Carol. "I don't get everything I want, do +I?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + +<p>The girls laughed, from habit not from genuine interest, at Carol's +subtle insinuation.</p> + +<p>"Well, shall we have her come?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Carol, "but you tell Prue she needn't expect me to hold it +until it gets too big to wiggle. I call them nasty, treacherous little +things. Mrs. Miller made me hold hers, and it squirmed right off my +knee. I wanted to spank it."</p> + +<p>"And tell Prudence to uphold the parsonage and have a white one," added +Lark. "These little Indian effects don't make a hit with me."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to tell Connie?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think so—yet. Connie's only fourteen."</p> + +<p>"You tell her." Carol's voice was emphatic. "There's nothing mysterious +about it. Everybody does it. And Connie may have a few suggestions of +her own to offer. You tell Prue I'm thinking out a lot of good advice +for her, and—"</p> + +<p>"You must write her yourselves. She wanted us to tell you long before." +Fairy picked up the little embroidered dress and kissed it, but her fond +eyes were anxious.</p> + +<p>So a few weeks later, weeks crowded full of tumult and anxiety, yes, and +laughter, too, Prudence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> and Jerry came to Mount Mark and settled down +to quiet life in the parsonage. The girls kissed Prudence very often, +leaped quickly to do her errands, and touched her with nervous fingers. +But mostly they sat across the room and regarded her curiously, shyly, +quite maternally.</p> + +<p>"Carol and Lark Starr," Prudence cried crossly one day, when she +intercepted one of these surreptitious glances, "you march right +up-stairs and shut yourselves up for thirty minutes. And if you ever sit +around and stare at me like a stranger again, I'll spank you both. I'm +no outsider. I belong here just as much as ever I did. And I'm still the +head of things around here, too!"</p> + +<p>The twins obediently marched, and after that Prudence was more like +Prudence, and the twins were much more twinnish, so that life was very +nearly normal in the old parsonage. Prudence said she couldn't feel +quite satisfied because the twins were too old to be punished, but she +often scolded them in her gentle teasing way, and the twins enjoyed it +more than anything else that happened during those days of quiet.</p> + +<p>Then came a night when the four sisters huddled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> breathlessly in the +kitchen, and Aunt Grace and the trained nurse stayed with Prudence +behind the closed door of the front room up-stairs. And the doctor went +in, too, after he had inflicted a few light-hearted remarks upon the two +men in the little library.</p> + +<p>After that—silence, an immense hushing silence,—settled down over the +parsonage. Jerry and Mr. Starr, alone in the library, where a faint odor +of drugs, anesthetics, something that smelled like hospitals lingered, +stared away from each other with persistent determination. Now and then +Jerry walked across the room, but Mr. Starr stood motionless by the +window looking down at the cherry tree beneath him, wondering vaguely +how it dared to be so full of snowy blooms!</p> + +<p>"Where are the girls?" Jerry asked, picking up a roll of cotton which +had been left on the library table, and flinging it from him as though +it scorched his fingers.</p> + +<p>"I—think I'll go and see," said Mr. Starr, turning heavily.</p> + +<p>Jerry hesitated a minute. "I—think I'll go along," he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> + +<p>For an instant their eyes met, sympathetically, and did not smile though +their lips curved.</p> + +<p>Down in the kitchen, meanwhile, Fairy sat somberly beside the table with +a pile of darning which she jabbed at viciously with the needle. Lark +was perched on the ice chest, but Carol, true to her childish instincts, +hunched on the floor with her feet curled beneath her. Connie leaned +against the table within reach of Fairy's hand.</p> + +<p>"They're awfully slow," she complained once.</p> + +<p>Nobody answered. The deadly silence clutched them.</p> + +<p>"Oh, talk," Carol blurted out desperately. "You make me sick! It isn't +anything to be so awfully scared about. Everybody does it."</p> + +<p>A little mumble greeted this, and then, silence again. Whenever it grew +too painful, Carol said reproachfully, "Everybody does it." And no one +ever answered.</p> + +<p>They looked up expectantly when the men entered. It seemed cozier +somehow when they were all together in the little kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Is she all right?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sure, she's all right," came the bright response from their father. And +then silence.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you make me sick," cried Carol. "Everybody does it."</p> + +<p>"Carol Starr, if you say 'everybody does it' again I'll send you to +bed," snapped Fairy. "Don't we know everybody does it? But Prudence +isn't everybody."</p> + +<p>"Maybe we'd better have a lunch," suggested their father hopefully, +knowing the thought of food often aroused his family when all other +means had failed. But his suggestion met with dark reproach.</p> + +<p>"Father, if you're hungry, take a piece of bread out into the woodshed," +begged Connie. "If anybody eats anything before me I shall jump up and +down and scream."</p> + +<p>Their father smiled faintly and gave it up. After that the silence was +unbroken save once when Carol began encouragingly:</p> + +<p>"Every—"</p> + +<p>"Sure they do," interrupted Fairy uncompromisingly.</p> + +<p>And then—the hush.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> + +<p>Long, long after that, when the girls' eyes were heavy, not with want of +sleep, but just with unspeakable weariness of spirit,—they heard a step +on the stair.</p> + +<p>"Come on up, Harmer," the doctor called. And then, "Sure, she's all +right. She's fine and dandy,—both of them are."</p> + +<p>Jerry was gone in an instant, and Mr. Starr looked after him with +inscrutable eyes. "Fathers are—only fathers," he said enigmatically.</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed Carol.</p> + +<p>"Yes. In a crisis, the other man goes first."</p> + +<p>His daughters turned to him then, tenderly, sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"You had your turn, father," Connie consoled him. And felt repaid for +the effort when he smiled at her.</p> + +<p>"They are both fine, you know," said Carol. "The doctor said so."</p> + +<p>"We heard him," Fairy assured her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I said all the time you were all awfully silly about it. I knew it +was all right. Everybody does it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Jerry Junior," Lark mused. "He's here.—'Aunt Lark, may I have a +cooky?'"</p> + +<p>A few minutes later the door was carefully shoved open by means of a +cautious foot, and Jerry stood before them, holding in his arms a big +bundle of delicately tinted flannel.</p> + +<p>"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, beaming at them, his face flushed, his +eyes bright, embarrassed, but thoroughly satisfied. Of course, Prudence +was the dearest girl in the world, and he adored her, and—but this was +different, this was Fatherhood!</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 302px;"> +<img src="images/gs205.jpg" width="302" height="400" alt="Let me introduce to you my little daughter" title="Let me introduce to you my little daughter" /> +<span class="caption">Let me introduce to you my little daughter</span> +</div> + +<p>"Ladies and gentlemen," he said again in the tender, half-laughing voice +that Prudence loved, "let me introduce to you my little daughter, Fairy +Harmer."</p> + +<p>"Not—not Fairy!" cried Fairy, Senior, tearfully. "Oh, Jerry, I don't +believe it. Not Fairy! You are joking."</p> + +<p>"Of course it is Fairy," he said. "Look out, Connie, do you want to +break part of my daughter off the first thing? Oh, I see. It was just +the flannel, was it? Well, you must be careful of the flannel, for when +ladies are the size of this one,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> you can't tell which is flannel and +which is foot. Fairy Harmer! Here, grandpa, what do you think of this? +And Prudence said to send you right up-stairs, and hurry. And the girls +must go to bed immediately or they'll be sick to-morrow. Prudence says +so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's enough. That's Prudence all over! You needn't tell us any +more. Here, Fairy Harmer, let us look at you. Hold her down, Jerry. +Mercy! Mercy!"</p> + +<p>"Isn't she a beauty?" boasted the young father proudly.</p> + +<p>"A beauty? A beauty! That!" Carol rubbed her slender fingers over her +own velvety cheek. "They talk about the matchless skin of a new-born +infant. Thanks. I'd just as lief have my own."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she isn't acclimated yet, that's all. Do you think she looks like +me?"</p> + +<p>"No, Jerry, I don't," said Lark candidly. "I never considered you a +dream of loveliness by any means, but in due honesty I must admit that +you don't look like that."</p> + +<p>"Why, it hasn't any hair!" Connie protested.</p> + +<p>"Well, give it time," urged the baby's father. "Be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> reasonable, +Connie. What can you expect in fifteen minutes."</p> + +<p>"But they always have a little hair," she insisted.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed they don't, Miss Connie," he said flatly. "For if they +always did, ours would have. Now, don't try to let on there's anything +the matter with her, for there isn't.—Look at her nose, if you don't +like her hair.—What do you think of a nose like that now? Just look at +it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we're looking at it," was the grim reply.</p> + +<p>"And—and chin,—look at her chin. See here, do you mean to say you are +making fun of Fairy Harmer? Come on, tootsie, we'll go back up-stairs. +They're crazy about us up there."</p> + +<p>"Oh, see the cunning little footies," crowed Connie.</p> + +<p>"Here, cover 'em up," said Jerry anxiously. "You mustn't let their feet +stick out. Prudence says so. It's considered very—er, bad form, I +believe."</p> + +<p>"Fairy! Honestly, Jerry, is it Fairy? When did you decide?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, a long time ago," he said, "years ago, I guess. You see, we always +wanted a girl. Prue didn't think she had enough experience with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +stronger sex yet, and of course I'm strong for the ladies. But it seems +that what you want is what you don't get. So we decided to call her +Fairy when she came, and then we wanted a boy, and talked boy, and got +the girl! I guess it always works just that way, if you manage it +cleverly. Come now, Fairy, you needn't wrinkle up that smudge of a nose +at me.—Let go, Connie, it is my daughter's bedtime. There now, there +now, baby, was she her daddy's little girl?"</p> + +<p>Flushed and laughing, Jerry broke away from the admiring, giggling, +nearly tearful girls, and hurried up-stairs with Jerry Junior.</p> + +<p>But Fairy stood motionless by the door. "Prudence's baby," she +whispered. "Little Fairy Harmer!—Mmmmmmm!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>THE END OF FAIRY</h3> + + +<p><big><b>N</b></big>OW that the twins had attained to the dignity of eighteen years, and +were respectable students at the thoroughly respectable Presbyterian +college, they had dates very frequently. And it was along about this +time that Mr. Starr developed a sudden interest in the evening callers +at his home. He bobbed up unannounced in most unexpected places and at +most unexpected hours. He walked about the house with a sharp sly look +in his eyes, in a way that could only be described as Carol said, by +"downright <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'noisiness'">nosiness</ins>." The girls discussed this new phase of his +character when they were alone, but decided not to mention it to him, +for fear of hurting his feelings. "Maybe he's got a new kind of a sermon +up his brain," said Carol. "Maybe he's beginning to realize that his +clothes are wearing out again," suggested Lark. "He's too young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> for +second childhood," Connie thought. So they watched him curiously.</p> + +<p>Aunt Grace, too, observed this queer devotion on the part of the +minister, and finally her curiosity overcame her habit of keeping +silent.</p> + +<p>"William," she said gently, "what's the matter with you lately? Is there +anything on your mind?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Starr started nervously. "My mind? Of course not. Why?"</p> + +<p>"You seem to be looking for something. You watch the girls so closely, +you're always hanging around, and—"</p> + +<p>He smiled broadly. "Thanks for that. 'Hanging around,' in my own +parsonage. That is the gratitude of a loving family!"</p> + +<p>Aunt Grace smiled. "Well, I see there's nothing much the matter with +you. I was seriously worried. I thought there was something wrong, +and—"</p> + +<p>"Sort of mentally unbalanced, is that it? Oh, no, I'm just watching my +family."</p> + +<p>She looked up quickly. "Watching the family! You mean—"</p> + +<p>"Carol," he said briefly.</p> + +<p>"Carol! You're watching—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, only in the most honorable way, of course. You see," he gave his +explanation with an air of relief, "Prudence always says I must keep an +eye on Carol. She's so pretty, and the boys get stuck on her, +and—that's what Prudence says. I forgot all about it for a while. But +lately I have begun to notice that the boys are older, and—we don't +want Carol falling in love with the wrong man. I got uneasy. I decided +to watch out. I'm the head of this family, you know."</p> + +<p>"Such an idea!" scoffed Aunt Grace, who was not at all of a scoffing +nature.</p> + +<p>"Carol was born for lovers, Prudence says so. And these men's girls have +to be watched, or the wrong fellow will get ahead, and—"</p> + +<p>"Carol doesn't need watching—not any more at least."</p> + +<p>"I'm not really watching her, you know. I'm just keeping my eyes open."</p> + +<p>"But Carol's all right. That's one time Prudence was away off." She +smiled as she recognized a bit of Carol's slang upon her lips. "Don't +worry about her. You needn't keep an eye on her any more. She's coming, +all right."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You don't think there's any danger of her falling in love with the +wrong man?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"There aren't many worth-having fellows in Mount Mark, you know."</p> + +<p>"Carol won't fall in love with a Mount Mark fellow."</p> + +<p>"You seem very positive."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm positive."</p> + +<p>He looked thoughtful for a while. "Well, Prudence always told me to +watch Carol, so I could help her if she needed it."</p> + +<p>"Girls always need their fathers," came the quick reply. "But Carol does +not need you particularly. There's only one of them who will require +especial attention."</p> + +<p>"That's what Prudence says."</p> + +<p>"Yes, just one—not Carol."</p> + +<p>"Not Carol!" He looked at her in astonishment. "Why, Fairy and Lark +are—different. They're all right. They don't need attention."</p> + +<p>"No. It's the other one."</p> + +<p>"The other one! That's all."</p> + +<p>"There's Connie."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Connie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Connie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean Connie."</p> + +<p>Aunt Grace smiled.</p> + +<p>"Why, Grace, you're—you're off. Excuse me for saying it, but—you're +crazy. Connie—why, Connie has never been any trouble in her life. +Connie!"</p> + +<p>"You've never had any friction with Connie, she's always been right so +far. One of these days she's pretty likely to be wrong, and Connie +doesn't yield very easily."</p> + +<p>"But Connie's so sober and straight, and—"</p> + +<p>"That's the kind."</p> + +<p>"She's so conscientious."</p> + +<p>"Yes, conscientious."</p> + +<p>"She's—look here, Grace, there's nothing the matter with Connie."</p> + +<p>"Of course not, William. That isn't what I mean. But you ought to be +getting very, very close to Connie right now, for one of these days +she's going to need a lot of that extra companionship Prudence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> told you +about. Connie wants to know everything. She wants to see everything. +None of the other girls ever yearned for city life. Connie does. She +says when she is through school she's going to the city."</p> + +<p>"What city?"</p> + +<p>"Any city."</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"For experience."</p> + +<p>Mr. Starr looked about him helplessly. "There's experience right here," +he protested feebly. "Lots of it. Entirely too much of it."</p> + +<p>"Well, that's Connie. She wants to know, to see, to feel. She wants to +live. Get close to her, get chummy. She may not need it, and then again +she may. She's very young yet."</p> + +<p>"All right, I will. It is well I have some one to steer me along the +proper road." He looked regretfully out of the window. "I ought to be +able to see these things for myself, but the girls seem perfectly all +right to me. They always have. I suppose it's because they're mine."</p> + +<p>Aunt Grace looked at him affectionately. "It's because they're the +finest girls on earth," she de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>clared. "That's why. But we want to be +ready to help them if they need it, just because they are so fine. They +will every one be splendid, if we give them the right kind of a chance."</p> + +<p>He sat silent a moment. "I've always wanted one of them to marry a +preacher," he said, laughing apologetically. "It is very narrow-minded, +of course, but a man does make a hobby of his own profession. I always +hoped Prudence would. I thought she was born for it. Then I looked to +Fairy, and she turned me down. I guess I'll have to give up the notion +now."</p> + +<p>She looked at him queerly. "Maybe not."</p> + +<p>"Connie might, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Connie," she contradicted promptly, "will probably marry a genius, or a +rascal, or a millionaire."</p> + +<p>He looked dazed at that.</p> + +<p>She leaned forward a little. "Carol might."</p> + +<p>"Carol—"</p> + +<p>"She might." She watched him narrowly, a smile in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Carol's too worldly."</p> + +<p>"You don't believe that."</p> + +<p>"No, not really. Carol—she—why, you know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> when I think of it, Carol +wouldn't be half bad for a minister's wife. She has a sense of humor, +that is very important. She's generous, she's patient, she's unselfish, +a good mixer,—some of the ladies might think her complexion wasn't +real, but—Grace, Carol wouldn't be half bad!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, William," she sighed, "can't you remember that you are a Methodist +minister, and a grandfather, and—grow up a little?"</p> + +<p>After that Mr. Starr returned to normal again, only many times he and +Connie had little outings together, and talked a great deal. And Aunt +Grace, seeing it, smiled with satisfaction. But the twins and Fairy +settled it in their own minds by saying, "Father was just a little +jealous of all the beaux. He was looking for a pal, and he's found +Connie."</p> + +<p>But in spite of his new devotion to Connie, Mr. Starr also spent a great +deal of time with Fairy. "We must get fast chums, Fairy," he often said +to her. "This is our last chance. We have to get cemented for a +lifetime, you know."</p> + +<p>And Fairy, when he said so, caught his hand and laughed a little +tremulously.</p> + +<p>Indeed, he was right when he said it was his last<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> chance with Fairy in +the parsonage. Two weeks before her commencement she had slipped into +the library and closed the door cautiously behind her.</p> + +<p>"Father," she said, "would you be very sorry if I didn't teach school +after all?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit," came the ready answer.</p> + +<p>"I mean if I—you see, father, since you sent me to college I feel as if +I ought to work and—help out."</p> + +<p>"That's nonsense," he said, drawing the tall girl down to his knees. "I +can take care of my own family, thanks. Are you trying to run me out of +my job? If you want to work, all right, do it, but for yourself, and not +for us. Or if you want to do anything else," he did not meet her eyes, +"if you want to stay at home a year or so before you get married, it +would please us better than anything else. And when you want to marry +Gene, we're expecting it, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," she fingered the lapel of his coat uneasily. "Do you care +how soon I get married?"</p> + +<p>"Are you still sure it is Gene?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"Then I think you should choose your own time.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> I am in no hurry. But +any time,—it's for you, and Gene, to decide."</p> + +<p>"Then you haven't set your heart on my teaching?"</p> + +<p>"I set my heart on giving you the best chance possible. And I have done +it. For the rest, it depends on you. You may work, or you may stay at +home a while. I only want you to be happy, Fairy."</p> + +<p>"But doesn't it seem foolish to go clear through college, and spend the +money, and then—marry without using the education?"</p> + +<p>"I do not think so. They've been fine years, and you are finer because +of them. There's just as much opportunity to use your fineness in a home +of your own as in a public school. That's the way I look at it."</p> + +<p>"You don't think I'm too young?"</p> + +<p>"You're pretty young," he said slowly. "I can hardly say, Fairy. You've +always been capable and self-possessed. When you and Gene get so crazy +about each other you can't bear to be apart any longer, it's all right +here."</p> + +<p>She put her arm around his neck and rubbed her fingers over his cheek +lovingly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You understand, don't you, father, that I'm just going to be plain +married when the time comes? Not a wedding like Prudence's. Gene, and +the girls, and Prue and Jerry, and you, father, that is all."</p> + +<p>"Yes, all right. It's your day, you know."</p> + +<p>"And we won't talk much about it beforehand. We all know how we feel +about things. It would be silly for me to try to tell you what a grand +sweet father you've been to us. I can't tell you,—if I tried I'd only +cry. You know what I think."</p> + +<p>His face was against hers, and his eyes were away from her, so Fairy did +not see the moisture in his eyes when he said in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know Fairy. And I don't need to say what fine girls you are, and +how proud I am of you. You know it already. But sometimes," he added +slowly, "I wonder that I haven't been a bigger man, and haven't done +finer work, with a houseful of girls like mine."</p> + +<p>Her arm pressed more closely about his neck. "Father," she whispered, +"don't say that. We think you are wonderfully splendid, just as you are. +It isn't what you've said, not what you've<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> done for us, it's just +because you have always made us so sure of you. We never had to wonder +about father, or ask ourselves—we were sure. We've always had you." She +leaned over and kissed him again. "There never was such a father, they +all say so, Prudence and Connie, and the twins, too! There couldn't be +another like you! Now we understand each other, don't we?"</p> + +<p>"I guess so. Anyhow, I understand that there'll only be three daughters +in the parsonage pretty soon. All right, Fairy. I know you will be +happy." He paused a moment. "So will I."</p> + +<p>But the months passed, and Fairy seemed content to stay quietly at home, +embroidering as Prudence had done, laughing at the twins as they tripped +gaily, riotously through college. And then in the early spring, she sent +an urgent note to Prudence.</p> + +<p>"You must come home for a few days, Prue, you and Jerry. It's just +because I want you and I need you, and I know you won't go back on me. I +want you to get here on the early afternoon train Tuesday, and stay till +the last of the week. Just wire that you are coming—the three of you. I +know you'll be here, since it is I who ask it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> + +<p>It followed naturally that Prudence's answer was satisfactory. "Of +course we'll come."</p> + +<p>Fairy's plans were very simple. "We'll have a nice family dinner Tuesday +evening,—we'll get Mrs. Green to come and cook and have her niece to +serve it,—that'll leave us free to visit every minute. I'll plan the +dinner. Then we'll all be together, nice and quiet, just our own little +bunch. Don't have dates, twins,—of course Gene will be here, but he's +part of the family, and we don't want outsiders this time. His parents +will be in town, and I've asked them to come up. I want a real family +reunion just for once, and it's my party, for I started it. So you must +let me have it my own way."</p> + +<p>Fairy was generally willing to leave the initiative to the eager twins, +but when she made a plan it was generally worth adopting, and the other +members of the family agreed to her arrangements without demur.</p> + +<p>After the first confusion of welcoming Prudence home, and making fun of +"daddy Jerry," and testing the weight and length of little Fairy, they +all settled down to a parsonage home-gathering. Just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> a few minutes +before the dinner hour, Fairy took her father's hand.</p> + +<p>"Come into the lime-light," she said softly, "I want you." He passed +little Fairy over to the outstretched arms of the nearest auntie, and +allowed himself to be led into the center of the room.</p> + +<p>"Gene," said Fairy, and he came to her quickly, holding out a slender +roll of paper. "It's our license," said Fairy. "We think we'd like to be +married now, father, if you will."</p> + +<p>He looked at her questioningly, but understandingly. The girls clustered +about them with eager outcries, half protest, half encouragement.</p> + +<p>"It's my day, you know," cried Fairy, "and this is my way."</p> + +<p>She held out her hand, and Gene took it very tenderly in his. Mr. Starr +looked at them gravely for a moment, and then in the gentle voice that +the parsonage girls insisted was his most valuable ministerial asset, he +gave his second girl in marriage.</p> + +<p>It surely was Fairy's way, plain and sweet, without formality. And the +dinner that followed was just a happy family dinner. Fairy's face was +so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> glowing with content, and Gene's attitude was so tender, and so +ludicrously proud, that the twins at last were convinced that this was +right, and all was well.</p> + +<p>But that evening, when Gene's parents had gone away, and after Fairy and +Gene themselves had taken the carriage to the station for their little +vacation together, and Jerry and Prudence were putting little Fairy to +bed, the three girls left in the home sat drearily in their bedroom and +talked it over.</p> + +<p>"We're thinning out," said Connie. "Who next?"</p> + +<p>"We'll stick around as long as we like, Miss Connie, you needn't try to +shuffle us off," said Lark indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Prudence, and Fairy,—it was pretty cute of Fairy, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Let's go to bed," said Carol, rising. "I suppose we'll feel better in +the morning. A good sleep is almost as filling as a big meal after a +blow like this. Well, that's the end of Fairy. We have to make the best +of us. Come on, Larkie. You've still got us to boss you, Con, so you +needn't feel too forlorn. My, but the house is still! In some ways<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> I +think this family is positively sickening. Good night, Connie. And, +after this, when you want to eat candy in bed, please use your own. I +got chocolate all over my foot last night. Good night, Connie. Well, +it's the end of Fairy. The family is going to pieces, sure enough."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>SOWING SEEDS</h3> + + +<p>"<big><b>H</b></big>AVE you seen Mrs. Harbert lately, Carol?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she's better, father. I was there a few minutes yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Yesterday? You were there Tuesday, weren't you?"</p> + +<p>Carol looked uncomfortable. "Why, yes, I was, just for a second."</p> + +<p>"She tells me you've been running in nearly every day since she took +sick."</p> + +<p>Carol bent sharply inquiring eyes upon her father. "What else did she +tell you?"</p> + +<p>"She said you were an angel."</p> + +<p>"Y-yes,—she seems somehow to think I do it for kindness."</p> + +<p>"And don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no, father, of course I don't. It's only two blocks out of my way +and it's such fun to pop<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> in on sick folks and show them how +disgustingly strong and well I am."</p> + +<p>"Where did you get the money for that basket of fruit?"</p> + +<p>"I borrowed it from Aunt Grace." Carol's face was crimson with +mortification. "But it'll be a sweet time before Mrs. Harbert gets +anything else from me. She promised she wouldn't tell."</p> + +<p>"Did any of the others know about the fruit?"</p> + +<p>"Why—not—exactly."</p> + +<p>"But she thinks it was from the whole family. She thanked me for it."</p> + +<p>"I—I made her think that," Carol explained. "I want her to think we're +the nicest parsonage bunch they've ever had in Mount Mark. Besides, it +really was from the family. Aunt Grace loaned me the money and I'll have +to borrow it from you to pay her. And Lark did my dusting so I could go +on the errand, though she did not know what it was. And +I—er—accidentally took one of Connie's ribbons to tie it with. Isn't +that a family gift?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Scott tells me you are the prime mover in the Junior League now," +he continued.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, goodness knows our Junior League needs a mover of some sort."</p> + +<p>"And Mrs. Davies says you are a whole Mercy and Help Department all by +yourself."</p> + +<p>"What I can't understand," said Carol mournfully, "is why folks don't +keep their mouths shut. I know that sounds very inelegant, but it +expresses my idea perfectly. Can't I have a good time in my own way +without the whole church pedaling me from door to door?"</p> + +<p>The twinkle in her father's eyes deepened. "What do you call it, Carol, +'sowing seeds of kindness'?"</p> + +<p>"I should say not," came the emphatic retort. "I call it sowing seeds of +fun. It's a circus to go around and gloat over folks when they are sick +or sorry, or—"</p> + +<p>"But they tell me you don't gloat. Mrs. Marling says you cried with +Jeanie half a day when her dog died."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's my way of gloating," said Carol, nothing daunted, but +plainly glad to get away without further interrogation.</p> + +<p>It was a strange thing that of all the parsonage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> girls, Carol, +light-hearted, whimsical, mischievous Carol, was the one most dear to +the hearts of her father's people. Not the gentle Prudence, nor charming +Fairy, not clever Lark nor conscientious Connie, could rival the +"naughty twin" in Mount Mark's affections. And in spite of her odd curt +speeches, and her openly-vaunted vanity, Mount Mark insisted she was +"good." Certainly she was willing! "Get Carol Starr,—she'll do it," was +the commonest phrase in Mount Mark's vocabulary. Whatever was wanted, +whatever the sacrifice involved, Carol stood ready to fill the bill. Not +for kindness,—oh, dear no,—Carol <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'stanchly'">staunchly</ins> disclaimed any such +niceness as that. She did it for fun, pure and simple. She said she +liked to show off. She insisted that she liked to feel that she was the +pivot on which little old Mount Mark turned. But this was only when she +was found out. As far as she could she kept her little "seeds of fun" +carefully up her sleeve, and it was only when the indiscreet adoration +of her friends brought the budding plants to light, that she laughingly +declared "it was a circus to go and gloat over folks."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> + +<p>Once in the early dusk of a summer evening, she discovered old Ben +Peters, half intoxicated, slumbering noisily on a pile of sacks in a +corner of the parsonage barn. Carol was sorry, but not at all +frightened. The poor, kindly, weak, old man was as familiar to her as +any figure in Mount Mark. He was always in a more or less helpless state +of intoxication, but also he was always harmless, kind-hearted and +generous. She prodded him vigorously with the handle of the pitch-fork +until he was aroused to consciousness, and then guided him into the +woodshed with the buggy whip. When he was seated on a chunk of wood she +faced him sternly.</p> + +<p>"Well, you are a dandy," she said. "Going into a parsonage barn, of all +places in the world, to sleep off an odor like yours! Why didn't you go +down to Fred Greer's harness shop, that's where you got it. We're such +an awfully temperance town, you know! But the parsonage! Why, if the +trustees had happened into the barn and caught a whiff of that smell, +father'd have lost his job. Now you just take warning from me, and keep +away from this parsonage until you can develop a good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> Methodist odor. +Oh, don't cry about it! Your very tears smell rummy. Just you hang on to +that chunk of wood, and I'll bring you some coffee."</p> + +<p>Like a thief in the night she sneaked into the house, and presently +returned with a huge tin of coffee, steaming hot. He drank it eagerly, +but kept a wary eye on the haughty twin, who stood above him with the +whip in her hand.</p> + +<p>"That's better. Now, sit down and listen to me. If you would come to the +parsonage, you have to take your medicine. Silver and gold have we none, +but such as we have we give to you. And religion's all we've got. You're +here, and I'm here. We haven't any choir or any Bible, but parsonage +folks have to be adaptable. Now then, Ben Peters, you've got to get +converted."</p> + +<p>The poor doddering old fellow, sobered by this awful announcement, +looked helplessly at the window. It was too small. And slender active +Carol, with the buggy whip, stood between him and the door.</p> + +<p>"No, you can't escape. You're done for this time,—it's the straight and +narrow from this on. Now listen,—it's really very simple. And you need<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +it pretty badly, Ben. Of course you don't realize it when you're drunk, +you can't see how terribly disgusting you are, but honestly, Ben, a pig +is a ray of sunshine compared to a drunk man. You're a blot on the +landscape. You're a—you're a—" She fished vainly for words, longing +for Lark's literary flow of language.</p> + +<p>"I'm not drunk," he stammered.</p> + +<p>"No, you're not, thanks to the buggy whip and that strong coffee, but +you're no beauty even yet. Well now, to come down to religion again. You +can't stop drinking—"</p> + +<p>"I could," he blustered feebly, "I could if I wanted to."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you couldn't. You haven't backbone enough. You couldn't stop to +save your life. But," Carol's voice lowered a little, and she grew shy, +but very earnest, "but God can stop you, because He has enough backbone +for a hundred thousand—er, jellyfishes. And—you see, it's like this. +God made the world, and put the people in it. Now listen carefully, Ben, +and I'll make it just as simple as possible so it can sink through the +smell and get at you. God made the world, and put the people in it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> And +the people sinned, worshiped idols and went back on God, and—did a lot +of other mean things. So God was in honor bound to punish them, for +that's the law, and God's the judge that can't be bought. He had to +inflict punishment. But God and Jesus talked it over, and they felt +awfully bad about it, for they kind of liked the people anyhow." She +stared at the disreputable figure slouching on the chunk of wood. "It's +very hard to understand, very. I should think they would despise +us,—some of us," she added significantly. "I'm sure I should. But +anyhow they didn't. Are you getting me?"</p> + +<p>The bleary eyes were really fastened intently on the girl's bright face, +and he hung upon her words.</p> + +<p>"Well, they decided that Jesus should come down here and live, and be +perfectly good, so He would not deserve any punishment, and then God +would allow Him to receive the punishment anyhow, and the rest of us +could go free. That would cover the law. See? Punishing Him when He +deserved no punishment. Then they could forgive us heathens that didn't +deserve it. Do you get that?" She looked at him anxiously. "It all +hinges on that, you know. I'm not a preacher myself, but that's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> the +idea. So Jesus was crucified, and then God said, 'There He is! Look on +Him, believe in Him, worship Him, and in His name you stand O. K.' See? +That means, if we give Him the chance, God'll let Jesus take our share +of the punishment. So we've just got to let go, and say, 'All right, +here I am. I believe it, I give up, I know I don't amount to a hill of +beans—and you can say it very honestly—but if you want me, and will +call it square, God knows I'm willing.' And there you are."</p> + +<p>"Won't I drink any more?"</p> + +<p>"No, not if you let go hard enough. I mean," she caught herself up +quickly, "I mean if you let clear go and turn the job over to God. But +you're not to think you can keep decent by yourself, for you can't—it's +not born in you, and something else is—just let go, and stay let go. +After that, it's God's job, and unless you stick in and try to manage +yourself, He'll see you through."</p> + +<p>"All right, I'll do it."</p> + +<p>Carol gasped. She opened her lips a few times, and swallowed hard. She +didn't know what to do next. Wildly she racked her brain for the next +step in this vital performance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I—think we ought to pray," she said feebly.</p> + +<p>"All right, we'll pray." He rolled curiously off the stick of wood, and +fell, as if by instinct, into the attitude of prayer.</p> + +<p>Carol gazed about her helplessly. But true to her training, she knelt +beside him. Then came silence.</p> + +<p>"I—well, I'll pray," she said with grim determination. "Dear Father in +Heaven," she began weakly, and then she forgot her timidity and her +fear, and realized only that this was a crisis in the life of the +drunken man.</p> + +<p>"Oh, God, he'll do it. He'll let go, and turn it over to you. He isn't +worth anything, God, none of us are, but You can handle him, for You've +had worse jobs than this, though it doesn't seem possible. You'll help +him, God, and love him, and show him how, for he hasn't the faintest +idea what to do next, and neither have I. But You brought him into our +barn to-night, and You'll see him through. Oh, God, for Jesus' sake, +help Ben Peters. Amen.</p> + +<p>"Now, what shall I do?" she wondered.</p> + +<p>"What's your father for?" She looked quickly at Ben Peters. He had not +spoken, but something certainly had asked, "What's your father for?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You stay here, Ben, and pray for yourself, and I'll send father out. +I'm not just sure what to say next, and father'll finish you up. You +pray for all you're worth."</p> + +<p>She was gone in a flash, through the kitchen, through the hall, up the +stairs two at a time, and her arm thrown closely about her father's +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, I got stuck," she wailed. "I'm so ashamed of myself. But +you can finish him off, can't you? I honestly believe he's started."</p> + +<p>He took her firmly by the arms and squared her around on his lap. "One, +two, three, ready, go. Now, what?"</p> + +<p>"Ben Peters. He was drunk in the barn and I took him into the woodshed +and gave him some hot coffee,—and some religion, but not enough to hurt +him. I told him he had to get converted, and he said he would. So I told +him about it, but you'd better tell him again, for I'm afraid I made +quite a mess of it. And then we prayed, and I was stuck for fair, +father, for I couldn't think what to do next. But I do believe it was +God who said, 'What's your father for?' And so I left him praying for +himself, and—you'd better hurry, or he may<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> get cold feet and run away. +Be easy with him, father, but don't let him off. This is the first +chance we've ever had at Ben Peters, and God'll never forgive us if we +let him slip through our fingers."</p> + +<p>Carol was dumped off on to the floor and her father was half-way down +the stairs before she caught her breath. Then she smiled. Then she +blushed.</p> + +<p>"That was one bad job," she said to herself sadly. "I'm a disgrace to +the Methodist church. Thank goodness the trustees'll never hear of it. +I'll bribe Ben Peters to eternal silence if I have to do it with +kisses." Then her face grew very soft. "Poor old man! Oh, the poor old +man!" A quick rush of tears blinded her eyes, and her throat throbbed. +"Oh, why do they,—what makes men like that? Can't they see, can't they +know, how awful they are, how—" She shuddered. "I can't see for the +life of me what makes God treat us decently at all." Her face brightened +again. "I was a bad job, all right, but I feel kind of pleased about it. +I hope father won't mention it to the girls."</p> + +<p>And Ben Peters truly had a start, incredible as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> it seemed. Yes, as +Carol had warned him, he forgot sometimes and tried to steer for +himself, and always crashed into the rocks. Then Carol, with angry eyes +and scornful voice, berated him for trying to get hold of God's job, and +cautioned him anew about "sticking in when it was not his affair any +more." It took time, a long time, and hard work, and many, many prayers +went up from Carol's bedside, and from the library at the head of the +stairs, but there came a time when Ben Peters let go for good and all, +and turned to Carol, standing beside the bed with sorry frightened eyes, +and said quietly:</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Carol. I've let go. You're a mighty nice little girl. +I've let go for good this time. I'm just slipping along where He sends +me,—it's all right," he finished drowsily. And fell asleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE CONNIE PROBLEM</h3> + + +<p><big><b>M</b></big>R. STARR was getting ready to go to conference, and the girls hovered +about him with anxious eyes. This was their fifth conference since +coming to Mount Mark,—the time limit for Methodist ministers was five +years. The Starrs, therefore, would be transferred, and where? Small +wonder that the girls followed him around the house and spoke in soft +voices and looked with tender eyes at the old parsonage and the wide +lawn. They would be leaving it next week. Already the curtains were +down, and laundered, and packed. The trunks were filled, the books were +boxed. Yes, they were leaving, but whither were they bound?</p> + +<p>"Get your ecclesiastical dander up, father," Carol urged, "don't let +them give us a church fight, or a twenty-thousand-dollar debt on a +thousand-dollar congregation."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We don't care for a big salary or a stylish congregation," Lark added, +"but we don't want to go back to washpans and kerosene lamps again."</p> + +<p>"If you have to choose between a bath tub, with a church quarrel, and a +wash basin with peace and harmony, we'll take the tub and settle the +scrap!"</p> + +<p>The conference was held in Fairfield, and he informed the girls casually +that he would be home on the first train after the assignments were +made. He said it casually, for he did not wish them to know how +perturbed he was over the coming change. During the conference he tried +in many and devious ways to learn the will of the authorities regarding +his future, but he found no clue. And at home the girls were discussing +the matter very little, but thinking of nothing else. They were +determined to be pleased about it.</p> + +<p>"It really doesn't make any difference," Lark said. "We've had one year +in college, we can get along without any more. Or maybe father would let +us borrow the money and stay at the dorm. And Connie's so far along now +that she's all right. Any good high school will do for her. It doesn't +make any difference at all."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, we're so nearly grown up that one place will do just as well as +another," agreed Carol unconcernedly.</p> + +<p>"I'm rather anxious to move, myself," said Connie. "I'm afraid some of +the ladies might carry out their designs on father. They've had five +years of practise now, you know."</p> + +<p>"Don't be silly, Con. Isn't Aunt Grace here on purpose to chaperon him +and keep the ladies off? I'd hate to go to New London, <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'of'">or</ins> Mediapolis, +or—but after all it doesn't make a bit of difference."</p> + +<p>Just the same, on Wednesday evening, the girls sat silent, with +intensely flushed faces and painfully shining eyes, watching the clock, +listening for the footstep. They had deliberately remained away from the +station. They thought they could face it better within the friendly +walls of the parsonage. It was all settled now, father knew where they +were going. Oh, why hadn't he wired? It must be terribly bad then, he +evidently wanted to break it to them gently.</p> + +<p>Maybe it was a circuit! There was the whistle now! Only a few minutes +now. Suppose his salary were cut down,—good-by to silk stockings<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> and +kid gloves,—cheap, but kid, just the same! Suppose the parsonage would +be old-fashioned! Suppose there wasn't any parsonage at all, and they +would have to pay rent! Sup—Then the door slammed.</p> + +<p>Carol and Lark picked up their darning, and Connie bent earnestly over +her magazine. Aunt Grace covered a yawn with her slender fingers and +looked out of the window.</p> + +<p>"Hello!"</p> + +<p>"Why, hello, papa! Back already?"</p> + +<p>They dropped darning and magazine and flew to welcome him home.</p> + +<p>"Come and sit down!" "My, it seemed a long time!" "We had lots of fun, +father." "Was it a nice conference?" "Mr. James sent us two bushels of +potatoes!" "We're going to have chicken to-morrow—the Ladies' Aiders +sent it with their farewell love." "Wasn't it a dandy day?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's all settled."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we supposed it would be. Was the conference good? We read accounts +of it every day, and acted stuck-up when it said nice things about +you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We are to—"</p> + +<p>"Ju-just a minute, father," interrupted Connie anxiously. "We don't care +a snap where it is, honestly we don't. We're just crazy about it, +wherever it is. We've got it all settled. You needn't be afraid to tell +us."</p> + +<p>"Afraid to tell us!" mocked the twins indignantly. "What kind of +slave-drivers do you think we are?"</p> + +<p>"Of course we don't care where we go," explained Lark. "Haven't we been +a parsonage bunch long enough to be tickled to death to be sent any +place?"</p> + +<p>"Father knows we're all right. Go on, daddy, who's to be our next +flock?"</p> + +<p>"We haven't any, we—"</p> + +<p>The girls' faces paled. "Haven't any? You mean—"</p> + +<p>"I mean we're to stay in Mount Mark."</p> + +<p>"Stay in—What?"</p> + +<p>"Mount Mark. They—"</p> + +<p>"They extended the limit," cried Connie, springing up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," he denied, laughing. "They made me a presiding elder, and we're—"</p> + +<p>"A presiding elder! Father! Honestly? They—"</p> + +<p>"They ought to have made you a bishop," cried Carol loyally. "I've been +expecting it all my life. That's where the next jump'll land you. +Presiding elder! Now we can snub the Ladies' Aid if we want to."</p> + +<p>"Do you want to?"</p> + +<p>"No, of course not, but it's lots of fun to know we could if we did want +to."</p> + +<p>"I pity the next parsonage bunch," said Connie sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"Why? There's nothing the matter with our church!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, that isn't what I mean. But the next minister's family can't +possibly come up to us, and so—"</p> + +<p>The others broke her sentence with their laughter.</p> + +<p>"Talk about me and my complexion!" gasped Carol, wiping her eyes. "I'm +nothing to Connie<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> and her family pride. Where will we live now, +father?"</p> + +<p>"We'll rent a house—any house we like—and live like white folks."</p> + +<p>"Rent! Mercy, father, doesn't the conference furnish the elders with +houses? We can never afford to pay rent! Never!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, we have a salary of twenty-five hundred a year now," he said, with +apparent complacence, but careful to watch closely for the effect of +this statement. It gratified him, too, much as he had expected. The +girls stood stock-still and gazed at him, and then, with a violent +struggle for self-composure Carol asked:</p> + +<p>"Did you get any of it in advance? I need some new slippers."</p> + +<p>So the packing was finished, a suitable house was found—modern, with +reasonable rent—on Maple Avenue where the oaks were most magnificent, +and the parsonage family became just ordinary "folks," a parsonage +household no longer.</p> + +<p>"You must be very patient with us if we still try to run things," Carol +said apologetically to the president of the Ladies' Aid. "We've been a +par<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>sonage bunch all our lives, you know, and it's got to be a habit. +But we'll be as easy on you as we can. We know what it would mean to +leave two ministers' families down on you at once."</p> + +<p>Mr. Starr's new position necessitated long and frequent absences from +home, and that was a drawback to the family comradeship. But the girls' +pride in his advancement was so colossal, and their determination to +live up to the dignity of the eldership was so deep-seated, that affairs +ran on quite serenely in the new home.</p> + +<p>"Aren't we getting sensible?" Carol frequently asked her sisters, and +they agreed enthusiastically that they certainly were.</p> + +<p>"I don't think we ever were so bad as we thought we were," Lark said. +"Even Prudence says now that we were always pretty good. Prudence ought +to think so. She got most of our spending money for a good many years, +didn't she?"</p> + +<p>"Prudence didn't get it. She gave it to the heathen."</p> + +<p>"Well, she got credit for it on the Lord's accounts, I suppose. But she +deserved it. It was no joke collecting allowances from us."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> + +<p>One day this beautiful serenity was broken in upon in a most unpleasant +way. Carol looked up from <i>De Senectute</i> and flung out her arms in an +all-relieving yawn. Then she looked at her aunt, asleep on the couch. +She looked at Lark, who was aimlessly drawing feathers on the skeletons +of birds in her biology text. She looked at Connie, sitting upright in +her chair, a small book close to her face, alert, absorbed, oblivious to +the world. Connie was wide awake, and Carol resented it.</p> + +<p>"What are you reading, Con?" she asked reproachfully.</p> + +<p>Connie looked up, startled, and colored a little. "Oh,—poetry," she +stammered.</p> + +<p>Carol was surprised. "Poetry," she echoed. "Poetry? What kind of poetry? +There are many poetries in this world of ours. 'Life is real, life is +earnest.' 'There was a young lady from Bangor.' 'A man and a maiden +decided to wed.' 'Sunset and, evening star,'—oh, there are lots of +poetries. What's yours?" Her senseless dissertation had put her in good +humor again.</p> + +<p>Connie answered evasively. "It is by an old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> Oriental writer. I don't +suppose you've ever read it. Khayyam is his name."</p> + +<p>"Some name," said Carol suspiciously. "What's the poem?" Her eyes had +narrowed and darkened. By this time Carol had firmly convinced herself +that she was bringing Connie up,—a belief which afforded lively +amusement to self-conducting Connie.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's <i>The Rubaiyat</i>. It's—"</p> + +<p>"<i>The Rubaiyat!</i>" Carol frowned. Lark looked up from the skeletons with +sudden interest. "<i>The Rubaiyat?</i> By Khayyam? Isn't that the old fellow +who didn't believe in God, and Heaven, and such things—you know what I +mean,—the man who didn't believe anything, and wrote about it? Let me +see it. I've never read it myself, but I've heard about it." Carol +turned the pages with critical disapproving eyes. "Hum, yes, I know +about this." She faced Connie sternly. "I suppose you think, Connie, +that since we're out of a parsonage we can do anything we like. Haven't +we any standards? Haven't we any ideals? Are we—are we—well, anyhow, +what business has a minister's daughter reading trash like this?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't believe it, you know," Connie said coolly. "I'm only reading +it. How can I know whether it's trash or not, unless I read it? I—"</p> + +<p>"Ministers' daughters are supposed to keep their fingers clear of the +burning ends of matches," said Carol neatly. "We can't handle them +without getting scorched, or blackened, at least. We have to steer clear +of things folks aren't sure about. Prudence says so."</p> + +<p>"Prudence," said Connie gravely, "is a dear sweet thing, but she's +awfully old-fashioned, Carol; you know that."</p> + +<p>Carol and Lark were speechless. They would as soon have dreamed of +questioning the catechism as Prudence's perfection.</p> + +<p>"She's narrow. She's a darling, of course, but she isn't up-to-date. I +want to know what folks are talking about. I don't believe this poem. +I'm a Christian. But I want to know what other folks think about me and +what I believe. That's all. Prudence is fine, but I know a good deal +more about some things than Prudence will know when she's a thousand +years old."</p> + +<p>The twins still sat silent.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course, some folks wouldn't approve of parsonage girls reading +things like this. But I approve of it. I want to know why I disagree +with this poetry, and I can't until I know where we disagree. It's +beautiful, Carol, really. It's kind of sad. It makes me want to cry. +It's—"</p> + +<p>"I've a big notion to tell papa on you," said Carol soberly and sadly.</p> + +<p>Connie rose at once.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to tell papa myself."</p> + +<p>Carol moved uneasily in her chair. "Oh, let it go this time. I—I just +mentioned it to relieve my feelings. I won't tell him yet. I'll talk it +over with you again. I'll have to think it over first."</p> + +<p>"I think I'd rather tell him," insisted Connie.</p> + +<p>Carol looked worried, but she knew Connie would do as she said. So she +got up nervously and went with her. She would have to see it through +now, of course. Connie walked silently up the stairs, with Carol +following meekly behind, and rapped at her father's door. Then she +entered, and Carol, in a hushed sort of way, closed the door behind +them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm reading this, father. Any objections?" Connie faced him calmly, and +handed him the little book.</p> + +<p>He examined it gravely, his brows contracting, a sudden wrinkling at the +corners of his lips that might have meant laughter, or disapproval, or +anything.</p> + +<p>"I thought a parsonage girl should not read it," Carol said bravely. +"I've never read it myself, but I've heard about it, and parsonage girls +ought to read parsonage things. Prudence says so. But—"</p> + +<p>"But I want to know what other folks think about what I believe," said +Connie. "So I'm reading it."</p> + +<p>"What do you think of, it?" he asked quietly, and he looked very +strangely at his baby daughter. It was suddenly borne in on him that +this was one crisis in her growth to womanhood, and he felt a great +yearning tenderness for her, in her innocence, in her dauntless courage, +in her reaching ahead, always ahead! It was a crisis, and he must be +very careful.</p> + +<p>"I think it is beautiful," Connie said soft<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>ly, and her lips drooped a +little, and a wistful pathos crept into her voice. "It seems so sad. I +keep wishing I could cry about it. There's nothing really sad in it, I +think it is supposed to be rather jovial, but—it seems terrible to me, +even when it is the most beautiful. Part of it I don't understand very +well."</p> + +<p>He held out a hand to Connie, and she put her own in it confidently. +Carol, too, came and stood close beside him.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "it is beautiful, Connie, and it is very terrible. We +can't understand it fully because we can't feel what he felt. It is a +groping poem, a struggling for light when one is stumbling in darkness." +He looked thoughtfully at the girls. "He was a marvelous man, that +Khayyam,—years ahead of his people, and his time. He was big enough to +see the idiocy of the heathen ideas of God, he was beyond them, he +spurned them. But he was not quite big enough to reach out, alone, and +get hold of our kind of a God. He was reaching out, he was struggling, +but he couldn't quite catch hold. It is a wonderful poem. It shows the +weakness, the helplessness of a gifted man who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> has nothing to cling to. +I think it will do you good to read it, Connie. Read it again and again, +and thank God, my child, that though you are only a girl, you have the +very thing this man, this genius, was craving. We admire his talent, but +we pity his weakness. You will feel sorry for him. You read it, too, +Carol. You'll like it. We can't understand it, as I say, because we are +so sure of our God, that we can't feel what he felt, having nothing. But +we can feel the heart-break, the fear, the shrinking back from the +Providence that he called Fate,—of course it makes you want to cry, +Connie. It is the saddest poem in the world."</p> + +<p>Connie's eyes were very bright. She winked hard a few times, choking +back the rush of tears. Then with an impulsiveness she did not often +show, she lifted her father's hand and kissed it passionately.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father," she whispered, "I was so afraid—you wouldn't quite see." +She kissed his hand again.</p> + +<p>Carol looked at her sister respectfully. "Connie," she said, "I +certainly beg your pardon. I just wanted to be clever, and didn't know +what I was talking about. When you have finished it, give it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> to me, +will you? I want to read it, too; I think it must be wonderful."</p> + +<p>She held out a slender shapely hand and Connie took it quickly, +chummily, and the two girls turned toward the door.</p> + +<p>"The danger in reading things," said Mr. Starr, and they paused to +listen, "the danger is that we may find arguments we can not answer; we +may feel that we have been in the wrong, that what we read is right. +There's the danger. Whenever you find anything like that, Connie, will +you bring it to me? I think I can find the answer for you. If I don't +know it, I will look until I come upon it. For we have been given an +answer to every argument. You'll come to me, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father, I will—I know you'll find the answers."</p> + +<p>After the door had closed behind them, Mr. Starr sat for a long time +staring straight before him into space.</p> + +<p>"The Connie problem," he said at last. And then, "I'll have to be better +pals with her. Connie's going to be pretty fine, I believe."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>BOOSTING CONNIE</h3> + + +<p><big><b>C</b></big>ONNIE was past fifteen when she announced gravely one day, "I've +changed my mind. I'm going to be an author."</p> + +<p>"An author," scoffed Carol. "You! I thought you were going to get +married and have eleven children." Even with the dignity of nineteen +years, the nimble wits of Carol and Lark still struggled with the +irreproachable gravity of Connie.</p> + +<p>"I was," was the cool retort. "I thought you were going to be a Red +Cross nurse and go to war."</p> + +<p>Carol blushed a little. "I was," she assented, "but there isn't any +war."</p> + +<p>"Well," even in triumph, Connie was imperturbable, "there isn't any +father for my eleven children either."</p> + +<p>The twins had to admit that this was an obstacle, and they yielded +gracefully.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But an author, Connie," said Lark. "It's very hard. I gave it up long +ago."</p> + +<p>"I know you did. But I don't give up very easily."</p> + +<p>"You gave up your eleven children."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've plenty of time for them yet, when I find a father for them. +Yes, I'm going to be an author."</p> + +<p>"Can you write?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I can write."</p> + +<p>"Well, you have conceit enough to be anything," said Carol frankly. +"Maybe you'll make it go, after all. I should like to have an author in +the family and since Lark's lost interest, I suppose it will have to be +you. I couldn't think of risking my complexion at such a precarious +livelihood. But if you get stuck, I'll be glad to help you out a little. +I really have an imagination myself, though perhaps you wouldn't think +it."</p> + +<p>"What makes you think you can write, Con?" inquired Lark, with genuine +interest.</p> + +<p>"I have already done it."</p> + +<p>"Was it any good?"</p> + +<p>"It was fine."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p> + +<p>Carol and Lark smiled at each other.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Carol, "she has the long-haired instinct. I see it now. They +always say it is fine. Was it a masterpiece, Connie?" And when Connie +hesitated, she urged, "Come on, confess it. Then we shall be convinced +that you have found your field. They are always masterpieces. Was +yours?"</p> + +<p>"Well, considering my youth and inexperience, it was," Connie admitted, +her eyes sparkling appreciatively. Carol's wit was no longer lost upon +her, at any rate.</p> + +<p>"Bring it out. Let's see it. I've never met a masterpiece yet,—except a +dead one," said Lark.</p> + +<p>"No—no," Connie backed up quickly. "You can't see it, and—don't ask +any more about it. Has father gone out?"</p> + +<p>The twins stared at her again. "What's the matter with you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, but it's my story and you can't see it. That settles it. Was +there any mail to-day?"</p> + +<p>Afterward the twins talked it over together.</p> + +<p>"What made her back down like that?" Carol wondered. "Just when we had +her going."</p> + +<p>"Why, didn't you catch on to that? She has sent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> it off to a magazine, +of course, and she doesn't want us to know about it. I saw through it +right away."</p> + +<p>Carol looked at her twin with new interest. "Did you ever send 'em off?"</p> + +<p>Lark flushed a little. "Yes, I did, and always got 'em back, too—worse +luck. That's why I gave it up."</p> + +<p>"What did you do with them when they came back?"</p> + +<p>"Burned them. They always burn them. Connie'll get hers back, and she'll +burn it, too," was the laconic answer.</p> + +<p>"An author," mused Carol. "Do you think she'll ever make it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, honestly, I shouldn't be surprised if she did. Connie's smart, +and she never gives up. Then she has a way of saying things that—well, +it takes. I really believe she'll make it, if she doesn't get off on +suffrage or some other queer thing before she gets to it."</p> + +<p>"I'll have to keep an eye on her," said Carol.</p> + +<p>"You wait until she can't eat a meal, and then you'll know she's got it +back. Many's the time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> Prudence made me take medicine, just because I +got a story back. Prudence thought it was tummy-ache. The symptoms are a +good bit the same."</p> + +<p>So Carol watched, and sure enough, there came a day when the bright +light of hope in Connie's eyes gave way to the sober sadness of +certainty. Her light had failed. And she couldn't eat her dinner.</p> + +<p>Lark kicked Carol's foot under the table, and the two exchanged amused +glances.</p> + +<p>"Connie's not well," said Lark with a worried air. "She isn't eating a +thing. You'd better give her a dose of that tonic, Aunt Grace. Prudence +says the first sign of decay is the time for a tonic. Give her a dose."</p> + +<p>Lark solemnly rose and fetched the bottle. Aunt Grace looked at Connie +inquiringly. Connie's face was certainly pale, and her eyes were weary. +And she was not eating her dinner.</p> + +<p>"I'm not sick," the crushed young author protested. "I'm just not +hungry. You trot that bottle back to the cupboard, Lark, and don't get +gay."</p> + +<p>"You can see for yourself," insisted Lark. "Look at her. Isn't she sick? +Many's the long illness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> Prudence staved off for me by a dose of this +magic tonic. You'd better make her take it, father. You can see she's +sick." The lust of a sweeping family revenge showed in Lark's clear +eyes.</p> + +<p>"You'd better take a little, Connie," her father decided. "You don't +look very well to-day."</p> + +<p>"But, father," pleaded Connie.</p> + +<p>"A dose in time saves a doctor bill," quoted Carol sententiously. +"Prudence says so."</p> + +<p>And the aspiring young genius was obliged to swallow the bitter dose. +Then, with the air of one who has rendered a boon to mankind, Lark +returned to her chair.</p> + +<p>After the meal was over, Carol shadowed Connie closely. Sure enough, she +headed straight for her own room, and Carol, close outside, heard a +crumpling of paper. She opened the door quickly and went in. Connie +turned, startled, a guilty red staining her pale face. Carol sat down +sociably on the side of the bed, politely ignoring Connie's feeble +attempt to keep the crumpled manuscript from her sight. She engaged her +sister in a broad-minded and sweeping conversation, adroitly leading it +up to the subject of literature. But Connie would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> not be inveigled into +a confession. Then Carol took a wide leap.</p> + +<p>"Did you get the story back?"</p> + +<p>Connie gazed at her with an awe that was almost superstitious. Then, in +relief at having the confidence forced from her, tears brightened her +eyes, but being Connie, she winked them stubbornly back.</p> + +<p>"I sure did," she said.</p> + +<p>"Hard luck," said Carol, in a matter-of-fact voice. "Let's see it."</p> + +<p>Connie hesitated, but finally passed it over.</p> + +<p>"I'll take it to my own room and read it if you don't mind. What are you +going to do with it now?"</p> + +<p>"Burn it."</p> + +<p>"Let me have it, won't you? I'll hide it and keep it for a souvenir."</p> + +<p>"Will you keep it hidden? You won't pass it around for the family to +laugh at, will you?"</p> + +<p>Carol gazed at her reproachfully, rose from the bed in wounded dignity +and moved away with the story in her hand. Connie followed her to the +door and said humbly:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Excuse me, Carol, I know you wouldn't do such a thing. But a person +does feel so ashamed of a story—when it comes back."</p> + +<p>"That's all right," was the kind answer. "I know just how it is. I have +the same feeling when I get a pimple on my face. I'll keep it dark."</p> + +<p>More eagerly than she would have liked Connie to know, she curled +herself upon the bed to read Connie's masterpiece. It was a simple +story, but Connie did have a way of saying things, and—Carol laid it +down in her lap and stared at it thoughtfully. Then she called Lark.</p> + +<p>"Look here," she said abruptly. "Read this. It's the masterpiece."</p> + +<p>She maintained a perfect silence while Lark perused the crumpled +manuscript.</p> + +<p>"How is it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, it's not bad," declared Lark in a surprised voice. "It's not half +bad. It's Connie all right, isn't it? Well, what do you know about +that?"</p> + +<p>"Is it any good?" pursued Carol.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, I think it is. It's just like folks you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> know. They talk as +we do, and—I'm surprised they didn't keep it. I've read 'em a whole lot +worse!"</p> + +<p>"Connie's disappointed," Carol said. "I think she needs a little boost. +I believe she'll really get there if we kind of crowd her along for a +while. She told me to keep this dark, and so I will. We'll just copy it +over, and send it out again."</p> + +<p>"And if it comes back?"</p> + +<p>"We'll send it again. We'll get the name of every magazine in the +library, and give 'em all a chance to start the newest author on the +rosy way."</p> + +<p>"It'll take a lot of stamps."</p> + +<p>"That's so. Do you have to enclose enough to bring them back? I don't +like that. Seems to me it's just tempting Providence. If they want to +send them back, they ought to pay for doing it. I say we just enclose a +note taking it for granted they'll keep it, and tell them where to send +the money. And never put a stamp in sight for them to think of using +up."</p> + +<p>"We can't do that. It's bad manners."</p> + +<p>"Well, I have half a dollar," admitted Carol reluctantly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p> + +<p>After that the weeks passed by. The twins saw finally the shadow of +<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'dissappointment'">disappointment</ins> leaving Connie's face, and another expression of +absorption take its place.</p> + +<p>"She's started another one," Lark said, wise in her personal experience.</p> + +<p>And when there came the starry rapt gaze once more, they knew that this +one, too, had gone to meet its fate. But before the second blow fell, +the twins gained their victory. They embraced each other feverishly, and +kissed the precious check a hundred times, and insisted that Connie was +the cleverest little darling that ever lived on earth. Then, when +Connie, with their father and aunt, was sitting in unsuspecting quiet, +they tripped in upon her.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/gs263.jpg" width="400" height="277" alt="We enclose our check for forty-five dollars" title="We enclose our check for forty-five dollars" /> +<span class="caption">We enclose our check for forty-five dollars</span> +</div> + +<p>"We have something to read to you," said Carol beaming paternally at +Connie. "Listen attentively. Put down your paper, father. It's +important. Go on, Larkie."</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"My dear Miss Starr," read Lark. "We are very much +pleased with your story,"—Connie<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> sprang suddenly +from her chair—"your story, 'When the Rule worked +Backwards.' We are placing it in one of our early +numbers, and shall be glad at any time to have the +pleasure of examining more of your work. We +enclose our check for forty-five dollars. Thanking +you, and assuring you of the satisfaction with +which we have read your story, I am,</p> + +<div class='right'> +<span style="margin-right: 5em;">"Very cordially yours,"—</span><br /> +</div></div> + +<p>"Tra, lalalalala!" sang the twins, dancing around the room, waving, one +the letter, the other the check.</p> + +<p>Connie's face was pale, and she caught her head with both hands, +laughingly nervously. "I'm going round," she gasped. "Stop me."</p> + +<p>Carol promptly pushed her down in a chair and sat upon her lap.</p> + +<p>"Pretty good,—eh, what?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Carol, don't say that, it sounds awful," cautioned Lark.</p> + +<p>"What do you think about it, Connie? Pretty fair boost for a struggling +young author, don't you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> think? Family, arise! The Chautauqua salute! We +have arrived. Connie is an author. Forty-five dollars!"</p> + +<p>"But however did you do it?" wondered Connie breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Why, we sent it out, and—"</p> + +<p>"Just once?"</p> + +<p>"Alas, no,—we sent it seven times."</p> + +<p>"Oh, girls, how could you! Think of the stamps! I'm surprised you had +the money."</p> + +<p>"Remember that last quarter we borrowed of you? Well!"</p> + +<p>Connie laughed excitedly. "Oh, oh!—forty-five dollars! Think of it. Oh, +father!"</p> + +<p>"Where's the story," he asked, a little jealously. "Why didn't you let +me look it over, Connie?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, I—couldn't. I—I—I felt shy about it. You don't know how +it is father, but—we want to keep them hidden. We don't get proud of +them until they've been accepted."</p> + +<p>"Forty-five dollars." Aunt Grace kissed her warmly. "And the letter is +worth a hundred times more to us than that. And when we see the +story—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We'll go thirds on the money, twins," said Connie.</p> + +<p>The twins looked eager, but conscientious. "No," they said, "it's just a +boost, you know. We can't take the money."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you've got to go thirds. You ought to have it all. I would have +burned it."</p> + +<p>"No, Connie," said Carol, "we know you aren't worth devotion like ours, +but we donate it just the same—it's gratis."</p> + +<p>"All right," smiled Connie. "I know what you want, anyhow. Come on, +auntie, let's go down town. I'm afraid that silver silk mull will be +sold before we get there."</p> + +<p>The twins fell upon her ecstatically. "Oh, Connie, you <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'musn't'">mustn't</ins>. We can't +allow it. Oh, of course if you insist, dearest, only—" And then they +rushed to find hats and gloves for their generous sister and devoted +aunt.</p> + +<p>The second story came back in due time, but with the boost still strong +in her memory, and with the fifteen dollars in the bank, Connie bore it +bravely and started it traveling once more. Most of the stories never +did find a permanent lodging place, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> Connie carried an old box to +the attic for a repository for her mental fruits that couldn't make +friends away from home. But she never despaired again.</p> + +<p>And the twins, after their own manner, calmly took to themselves full +credit for the career which they believed lay not far before her. They +even boasted of the way they had raised her and told fatuous and +exaggerated stories of their pride in her, and their gentle sisterly +solicitude for her from the time of her early babyhood. And Connie gave +assent to every word. In her heart she admitted that the twins' +discipline of her, though exceedingly drastic at times, had been +splendid literary experience.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>A MILLIONAIRE'S SON</h3> + + +<p>"<big><b>I</b></big>F Jim doesn't ask for a date for the concert next week, Lark, let's +snub him good."</p> + +<p>"But we both have dates," protested Lark.</p> + +<p>"What difference does that make? We mustn't let him get independent. He +always has asked one of us, and he needn't think we shall let him off +now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't worry," interrupted Connie. "He always asks. You have that +same discussion every time there's anything going on. It's just a waste +of time."</p> + +<p>Mr. Starr looked up from his mail. "Soup of boys, and salad of +boys,—they're beginning to pall on my palate."</p> + +<p>"Very classy expression father," approved Carol. "Maybe you can work it +into a sermon."</p> + +<p>"Complexion and boys with Carol, books and boys with Lark, Connie, if +you begin that nonsense<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> you'll get spanked. One member of my family +shall rise above it if I have to do it with force."</p> + +<p>Connie blushed.</p> + +<p>The twins broke into open derision. "Connie! Oh, yes, Connie's above +that nonsense."</p> + +<p>"Connie's the worst in the family, father, only she's one of these +reserved, supercilious souls who doesn't tell everything she knows."</p> + +<p>"'Nonsense.' I wish father could have heard Lee Hanson last night. It +would have been a revelation to him. 'Aw, go on, Connie, give us a +kiss.'"</p> + +<p>Connie caught her lips between her teeth. Her face was scarlet.</p> + +<p>"Twins!"</p> + +<p>"It's a fact, father. He kept us awake. 'Aw, go on, Connie, be good to a +fellow.'"</p> + +<p>"That's what makes us so pale to-day,—he kept us awake hours!"</p> + +<p>"Carol!"</p> + +<p>"Well, quite a while anyhow."</p> + +<p>"I—I—" began Connie defensively.</p> + +<p>"Well, we know it. Don't interrupt when we're telling things. You always +spoil a good story by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> cutting in. 'Aw, go on, Connie, go on now!' And +Connie said—" The twins rocked off in a paroxysm of laughter, and +Connie flashed a murderous look at them.</p> + +<p>"Prudence says listening is—"</p> + +<p>"Sure she does, and she's right about it, too. But what can a body do +when folks plant themselves right beneath your window to pull off their +little Romeo concerto. We can't smother on nights like these. 'Aw, go +on, Connie.'"</p> + +<p>"I wanted to drop a pillow on his head, but Carol was afraid he'd run +off with the pillow, so we just sacrificed ourselves and let it +proceed."</p> + +<p>"Well, I—"</p> + +<p>"Give us time, Connie. We're coming to that. And Connie said, 'I'm going +in now, I'm sleepy.'"</p> + +<p>"I didn't—father, I didn't!"</p> + +<p>"Well, you might have said a worse thing than that," he told her sadly.</p> + +<p>"I mean—I—"</p> + +<p>"She did say it," cried the twins. "'I'm sleepy.' Just like that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Connie's the girl for sentiment," exclaimed Lark. "Sleepy is not a +romantic word and it's not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> a sentimental feeling, but it can be drawled +out so it sounds a little mushy at least. 'I sleep, my love, to dream of +thee,'—for instance. But Connie didn't do it that way. Nix. Just plain +sleep, and it sounded like 'Get out, and have a little sense.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, it would make you sick," declared Connie, wrinkling up her nose +to express her disgust. "Are boys always like that father?"</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me," he hedged promptly. "How should I know?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Connie, how can you! There's father—now, he never cared to kiss +the girls even in his bad and balmy days, did you, daddy? Oh, no, father +was all for the strictly orthodox even in his youth!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Starr returned precipitately to his mail, and the twins calmly +resumed the discussion where it had been interrupted.</p> + +<p>A little later a quick exclamation from their father made them turn to +him inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"It's a shame," he said, and again: "What a shame!"</p> + +<p>The girls waited expectantly. When he only continued frowning at the +letter in his hand, Carol spoke up brightly, "Yes, isn't it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> + +<p>Even then he did not look up, and real concern settled over their +expressive faces. "Father! Can't you see we're listening?"</p> + +<p>He looked up, vaguely at first, then smiling. "Ah, roused your +curiosity, did I? Well, it's just another phase of this eternal boy +question."</p> + +<p>Carol leaned forward ingratiatingly. "Now indeed, we are all +absorption."</p> + +<p>"Why, it's a letter from Andrew Hedges,—an old college chum of mine. +His son is going west and Andy is sending him around this way to see me +and meet my family. He'll be here this afternoon. Isn't it a shame?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't it lovely?" exclaimed Carol. "We can use him to make Jim Forrest +jealous if he doesn't ask for that date?" And she rose up and kissed her +father.</p> + +<p>"Will you kindly get back to your seat, young lady, and not interfere +with my thoughts?" he reproved her sternly but with twinkling eyes. "The +trouble is I have to go to Fort Madison on the noon train for that +Epworth League convention. I'd like to see that boy. Andy's done well, I +guess. I've always heard so. He's a millionaire, they say."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> + +<p>For a long second his daughters gazed at him speechlessly.</p> + +<p>Then, "A millionaire's son," Lark faltered feebly.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Why on earth didn't you say so in the first place?" demanded Carol.</p> + +<p>"What difference does that make?"</p> + +<p>"It makes all the difference in the world! Ah! A millionaire's son." She +looked at Lark with keen speculative eyes. "Good-looking, I suppose, +young, of course, and impressionable. A millionaire's son."</p> + +<p>"But I have to go to Fort Madison. I am on the program to-night. There's +the puzzle."</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, you can leave him to us," volunteered Lark.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you mightn't carry it off well. You're so likely to run by +fits and jumps, you know. I should hate it if things went badly."</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, things couldn't go badly," protested Carol. "We'll be +lovely, just lovely. A millionaire's son! Oh, yes, daddy, you can trust +him to us all right."</p> + +<p>At last he caught the drift of their enthusiasm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> "Ah! I see! That fatal +charm. You're sure you'll treat him nicely?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, father, so sure. A millionaire's son. We've never even seen +one yet."</p> + +<p>"Now look here, girls, fix the house up and carry it off the best you +can. I have a lot of old friends in Cleveland, and I want them to think +I've got the dandiest little family on earth."</p> + +<p>"'Dandiest'! Father, you will forget yourself in the pulpit some +day,—you surely will. And when we take such pains with you, too, I +can't understand where you get it! The people you associate with, I +suppose."</p> + +<p>"Do your best, girls. I'm hoping for a good report. I'll be gone until +the end of the week, since I'm on for the last night, too. Will you do +your best?"</p> + +<p>After his departure, Carol gathered the family forces about her without +a moment's delay.</p> + +<p>"A millionaire's son," she prefaced her remarks, and as she had +expected, was rewarded with immediate attention. "Now, for darling +father's sake, we've got to manage this thing the very best we can. We +have to make this Andy Hedges,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> Millionaire's Son, think we're just +about all right, for father's sake. We must have a gorgeous dinner, to +start with. We'll plan that a little later. Now I think, Aunt Grace, +lovely, it would be nice for you to wear your lavender lace gown, and +look delicate, don't you? A chaperoning auntie in poor health is so +aristocratic. You must wear the lavender satin slippers and have a +bottle of cologne to lift frequently to your sensitive nostrils."</p> + +<p>"Why, Carol, William wouldn't like it!"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't like it!" ejaculated the schemer in surprise. "Wouldn't like +it! Why wouldn't he like it? Didn't he tell us to create a good +impression? Well, this is it. You'll make a lovely semi-invalid auntie. +You must have a faintly perfumed handkerchief to press to your eyes now +and then. It isn't hot enough for you slowly to wield a graceful fan, +but we can get along without it."</p> + +<p>"But, Carol—"</p> + +<p>"Think how pleased dear father will be if his old college chum's son is +properly impressed," interrupted Carol hurriedly, and proceeded at once +with her plans.</p> + +<p>"Connie must be a precocious younger sister, all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> in white,—she must +come in late with a tennis racquet, as though she had just returned from +a game. That will be stagey, won't it? Lark must be the sweet young +daughter of the home. She must wear her silver mull, her gray slippers, +and—"</p> + +<p>"I can't," said Lark. "I spilt grape juice on it. And I kicked the toe +out of one of my slippers."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to wear mine then. Fortunately that silver mull was always +too tight for me and I never comported myself in it with freedom and +destructive ease. As a consequence, it is fresh and charming. You must +arrange your hair in the most <i>Ladies' Home Journal</i> style, and—"</p> + +<p>"What are you going to wear?"</p> + +<p>"Who, me? Oh, I have other plans for myself." Carol looked rather +uneasily at her aunt. "I'll come to me a little later."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," said Connie. "Carol has something extra up her sleeve. +She's had the millionaire's son in her mind's eye ever since father +introduced his pocketbook into the conversation."</p> + +<p>Carol was unabashed. "My interest is solely from a family view-point. I +have no ulterior motive."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her eyes sparkled eagerly. "You know, auntie darling—"</p> + +<p>"Now, Carol, don't you suggest anything—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no indeed, dearest, how could you think of such a thing?" +disclaimed Carol instantly. "It's such a very tiny thing, but it will +mean a whole lot on the general impression of a millionaire's son. We've +simply got to have a maid! To open the door, and curtesy, and take his +hat, and serve the dinner, and—He's used to it, you know, and if we +haven't one, he'll go back to Cleveland and say, 'Ah, bah Jove, I had to +hang up my own hat, don't you know?'"</p> + +<p>"That's supposed to be English, but I don't believe it. Anyhow, it isn't +Cleveland," said Connie flatly.</p> + +<p>"Well, he'd think we were awfully cheap and hard up, and Andy Hedges, +Senior, would pity father, and maybe send him ten dollars, and—no, +we've got to have a maid!"</p> + +<p>"We might get Mamie Sickey," suggested Lark.</p> + +<p>"She's so ugly."</p> + +<p>"Or Fay Greer," interposed Aunt Grace.</p> + +<p>"She'd spill the soup."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then there's nobody but Ada Lone," decided Connie.</p> + +<p>"She hasn't anything fit to wear," objected Carol.</p> + +<p>"Of whom were you thinking, Carol?" asked her aunt, moving uneasily in +her chair.</p> + +<p>Carol flung herself at her aunt's knees. "Me!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"As usual?" Connie ejaculated dryly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Carol," wailed Lark, "we can't think of things to talk about when +you aren't there to keep us stirred up."</p> + +<p>"I'm beginning to see daylight," said Connie. She looked speculatively +at Lark. "Well, it's not half bad, Carol, and I apologize."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think it is a glorious idea, Connie?" cried Carol +rapturously.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think it is."</p> + +<p>Carol caught her sister's hand. Here was an ally worth having. "You know +how sensible Connie is, auntie. She sees how utterly preposterous it +would be to think of entertaining a millionaire's son without a maid."</p> + +<p>"You're too pretty," protested Lark. "He'd try to kiss you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Oh, no, sir, oh, please, sir,'" simpered Carol, with an adorable +curtesy, "'you'd better wait for the ladies, sir.'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Carol, I think you're awful," said their aunt unhappily. "I know +your father won't like it."</p> + +<p>"Like it? He'll love it. Won't he, Connie?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm not sure he'll be crazy about it, but it'll be all over when +he gets home," said Connie.</p> + +<p>"And you're very much in favor of it, aren't you, Connie precious?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am." Connie looked at Lark critically again. "We must get Lark +some bright flowers to wear with the silver dress—sweet peas would be +good. But I won't pay for them, and you can put that down right now."</p> + +<p>"But what's the idea?" mourned Lark. "What's the sense in it? Father +said to be good to him, and you know I can't think of things to say to a +millionaire's son. Oh, Carol, don't be so mean."</p> + +<p>"You must practise up. You must be girlish, and light-hearted, and +ingenuous, you know. That'll be very effective."</p> + +<p>"You do it, Carol. Let me be the maid. You're lots more effective than I +am."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Carol stood firm, and the others yielded to her persuasions. They +didn't approve, they didn't sanction, but they did get enthusiastic, and +a merrier houseful of masqueraders was never found than that. Even Aunt +Grace allowed her qualms to be quieted and entered into her part as +semi-invalid auntie with genuine zest.</p> + +<p>At three they were all arrayed, ready for the presentation. They +assembled socially in the parlor, the dainty maid ready to fly to her +post at a second's warning. At four o'clock, they were a little fagged +and near the point of exasperation, but they still held their characters +admirably. At half past four a telegraph message was phoned out from the +station.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Delayed in coming. Will write you later. Very +sorry. Andy Hedges, Jr." </p></div> + +<p>Only the absolute ludicrousness of it saved Carol from a rage. She +looked from the girlish tennis girl to the semi-invalid auntie, and then +to the sweet young daughter of the home, and burst out laughing. The +others, though tired, nervous and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> disappointed, joined her merrily, and +the vexation was swept away.</p> + +<p>The next morning, Aunt Grace went as usual to the all-day meeting of the +Ladies' Aid in the church parlors. Carol and Lark, with a light lunch, +went out for a few hours of spring-time happiness beside the creek two +miles from town.</p> + +<p>"We'll come back right after luncheon," Carol promised, "so if Andy the +Second should come, we'll be on hand."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he won't come to-day."</p> + +<p>"Well, he just better get here before father comes home. I know father +will like our plan after it's over, but I also know he'll veto it if he +gets home in time. Wish you could go with us, Connie."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. But I've got to sew on forty buttons. And—if I pick the +cherries on the little tree, will you make a pie for dinner?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. If I'm too tired Larkie will. Do pick them, Con, the birds have +had more than their share now."</p> + +<p>After her sisters had disappeared, Connie considered the day's program.</p> + +<p>"I'll pick the cherries while it's cool. Then I'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> sew on the buttons. +Then I'll call on the Piersons, and they'll probably invite me to stay +for luncheon." And she went up-stairs to don a garment suitable for +cherry-tree service. For cherry trees, though lovely to behold when +laden with bright red clusters showing among the bright green leaves, +are not at all lovely to climb into. Connie knew that by experience. +Belonging to a family that wore its clothes as long as they possessed +any wearing virtue, she found nothing in her immediate wardrobe fitted +for the venture. But from a rag-bag in the closet at the head of the +stairs, she resurrected some remains of last summer's apparel. First she +put on a blue calico, but the skirt was so badly torn in places that it +proved insufficiently protecting. Further search <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'brough'">brought</ins> to light +another skirt, pink, in a still worse state of delapidation. However, +since the holes did not occur simultaneously in the two garments, by +wearing both she was amply covered. For a waist she wore a red crape +dressing sacque, and about her hair she tied a broad, ragged ribbon of +red to protect the soft waves from the ruthless twigs. She looked at +herself in the mirror. Nothing daunted by the sight of her own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +unsightliness, she took a bucket and went into the back yard.</p> + +<p>Gingerly she climbed into the tree, gingerly because Connie was not fond +of scratches on her anatomy, and then began her task. It was a glorious +morning. The birds, frightened away by the living scare-crow in the +tree, perched in other, cherry-less trees around her and burst into +derisive song. And Connie, light-hearted, free from care, in love with +the whole wide world, sang, too, pausing only now and then to thrust a +ripe cherry between her teeth.</p> + +<p>She did not hear the prolonged ringing of the front-door bell. She did +not observe the young man in the most immaculate of white spring suits +who came inquiringly around the house. But when the chattering of a +saucy robin became annoying, she flung a cherry at him crossly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, chase yourself!" she cried. And nearly fell from her perch in +dismay when a low voice from beneath said pleasantly:</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon! Miss Starr?"</p> + +<p>Connie swallowed hard, to get the last cherry and the mortification out +of her throat.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, noting the immaculate white spring suit, and the +handsome shoes, and the costly Panama held so lightly in his hand. She +knew the Panama was costly because they had wanted to buy one for her +father's birthday, but decided not to.</p> + +<p>"I am Andrew Hedges," he explained, smiling sociably.</p> + +<p>Connie wilted completely at that. "Good night," she muttered with a +vanishing mental picture of their lovely preparations the day previous. +"I—mean good morning. I'm so glad to meet you. You—you're late, aren't +you? I mean, aren't you ahead of yourself? At least, you didn't write, +did you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I was not detained so long as I had anticipated, so I came right +on. But I'm afraid I'm inconveniencing you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not a bit, I'm quite comfortable," she assured him. "Auntie is gone +just now, and the twins are away, too, but they'll all be back +presently." She looked longingly at the house. "I'll have to come down, +I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Let me help you," he offered eagerly. Connie in the incongruous +clothes, with the little curls<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> straying beneath the ragged ribbon, and +with stains of cherry on her lips, looked more presentable than Connie +knew.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I—" she hesitated, flushing. "Mr. Hedges," she cried imploringly, +"will you just go around the corner until I get down. I look fearful."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it," he said. "Let me take the cherries."</p> + +<p>Connie helplessly passed them down to him, and saw him carefully +depositing them on the ground. "Just give me your hand."</p> + +<p>And what could Connie do? She couldn't sternly order a millionaire's son +to mosy around the house and mind his own business until she got some +decent clothes on, though that was what she yearned to do. Instead she +held out a slender hand, grimy and red, with a few ugly scratches here +and there, and allowed herself to be helped ignominiously out from the +sheltering branches into the garish light of day.</p> + +<p>She looked at him reproachfully. He never so much as smiled.</p> + +<p>"Laugh if you like," she said bitterly. "I looked in the mirror. I know +all about it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Run along," he said, "but don't be gone long, will you? Can you trust +me with the cherries?"</p> + +<p>Connie walked into the house with great decorum, afraid the ragged +skirts might swing revealingly, but the young man bent over the cherries +while she made her escape.</p> + +<p>It was another Connie who appeared a little later, a typical tennis +girl, all in white from the velvet band in her hair to the canvas shoes +on her dainty feet. She held out the slender hand, no longer grimy and +stained, but its whiteness still marred with sorry scratches.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to see you," she said gracefully, "though I can only pray you +won't carry a mental picture of me very long."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I will though," he said teasingly.</p> + +<p>"Then please don't paint me verbally for my sisters' ears; they are +always so clever where I am concerned. It is too bad they are out. +You'll stay for luncheon with me, won't you? I'm all alone,—we'll have +it in the yard."</p> + +<p>"It sounds very tempting, but—perhaps I had better come again later in +the afternoon."</p> + +<p>"You may do that, too," said Connie. "But since<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> you are here, I'm +afraid I must insist that you help amuse me." And she added ruefully, +"Since I have done so well amusing you this morning."</p> + +<p>"Why, he's just like anybody else," she was thinking with relief. "It's +no trouble to talk to him, at all. He's nice in spite of the millions. +Prudence says millionaires aren't half so dollar-marked as they are +cartooned, anyhow."</p> + +<p>He stayed for luncheon, he even helped carry the folding table out +beneath the cherry tree, and trotted docilely back and forth with plates +and glasses, as Connie decreed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father," she chuckled to herself, as she stood at the kitchen +window, twinkling at the sight of the millionaire's son spreading +sandwiches according to her instructions. "Oh, father, the boy question +is complicated, sure enough."</p> + +<p>It was not until they were at luncheon that the grand idea visited +Connie. Carol would have offered it harborage long before. Carol's mind +worked best along that very line. It came to Connie slowly, but she gave +it royal welcome. Back to her remembrance flashed the thousand witty +sallies of Carol and Lark, the hundreds of times she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> suffered at +their hands. And for the first time in her life, she saw a clear way of +getting even. And a millionaire's son! Never was such a revenge fairly +crying to be perpetrated.</p> + +<p>"Will you do something for me, Mr. Hedges?" she asked. Connie was only +sixteen, but something that is born in woman told her to lower her eyes +shyly, and then look up at him quickly beneath her lashes. She was no +flirt, but she believed in utilizing her resources. And she saw in a +flash that the ruse worked.</p> + +<p>Then she told him softly, very prettily.</p> + +<p>"But won't she dislike me if I do?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No, she won't," said Connie. "We're a family of good laughers. We enjoy +a joke nearly as much when it's on us, as when we are on top."</p> + +<p>So it was arranged, and shortly after luncheon the young man in the +immaculate spring suit took his departure. Then Connie summoned her aunt +by phone, and told her she must hasten home to help "get ready for the +millionaire's son." It was after two when the twins arrived, and Connie +and their aunt hurried them so violently that they hadn't time to ask +how Connie got her information.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But I hope I'm slick enough to get out of it without lying if they do +ask," she told herself. "Prudence says it's not really wicked to get out +of telling things if we can manage it."</p> + +<p>He had arrived! A millionaire's son! Instantly their enthusiasm returned +to them. The cushions on the couch were carefully arranged for the +reclining of the semi-invalid aunt, who, with the sweet young daughter +of the home, was up-stairs waiting to be summoned. Connie, with the +tennis racquet, was in the shed, waiting to arrive theatrically. Carol, +in her trim black gown with a white cap and apron, was a dream.</p> + +<p>And when he came she ushered him in, curtesying in a way known only on +the stage, and took his hat and stick, and said softly:</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir,—please come in, sir,—I'll call the ladies."</p> + +<p>She knew she was bewitching, of course, since she had done it on +purpose, and she lifted her eyes just far enough beneath the lashes to +give the properly coquettish effect. He caught her hand, and drew her +slowly toward him, admiration in his eyes, but trepidation in his heart, +as he followed Connie's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> coaching. But Carol was panic-seized, she broke +away from him roughly and ran up-stairs, forgetting her carefully +rehearsed. "Oh, no, sir,—oh, please, sir,—you'd better wait for the +ladies."</p> + +<p>But once out of reach she regained her composure. The semi-invalid aunt +trailed down the stairs, closely followed by the attentive maid to +arrange her chair and adjust the silken shawl. Mr. Hedges introduced +himself, feeling horribly foolish in the presence of the lovely serving +girl, and wishing she would take herself off. But she lingered +effectively, <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'whispering'">whisperingly</ins> softly:</p> + +<p>"Shall I lower the window, madame? Is it too cool? Your bottle, madame!"</p> + +<p>And the guest rubbed his hand swiftly across his face to hide the slight +twitching of his lips.</p> + +<p>Then the model maid disappeared, and presently the sweet daughter of the +house, charming in the gray silk mull and satin slippers, appeared, +smiling, talking, full of vivacity and life. And after a while the +dashing tennis girl strolled in, smiling inscrutably into the eyes that +turned so quizzically toward her. For a time all went well. The +chaperoning aunt occasionally lifted a dainty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> cologne bottle to her +sensitive nostrils, and the daughter of the house carried out her +girlish vivacity to the point of utter weariness. Connie said little, +but her soul expanded with the foretaste of triumph.</p> + +<p>"Dinner is served, madame," said the soft voice at the door, and they +all walked out sedately. Carol adjusted the invalid auntie's shawl once +more, and was ready to go to the kitchen when a quiet:</p> + +<p>"Won't Miss Carol sit down with us?" made her stop dead in her tracks.</p> + +<p>He had pulled a chair from the corner up to the table for her, and she +dropped into it. She put her elbows on the table, and leaning her dainty +chin in her hands, gazed thoughtfully at Connie, whose eyes were bright +with the fires of victory.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Connie, I have hopes of you yet,—you are improving," she said +gently. "Will you run out to the kitchen and bring me a bowl of soup, my +child?"</p> + +<p>And then came laughter, full and free,—and in the midst of it Carol +looked up, wiping her eyes, and said:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm sorry now I didn't let you kiss me, just to shock father!"</p> + +<p>But the visit was a great success. Even Mr. Starr realized that. The +millionaire's son remained in Mount Mark four days, the cynosure of all +eyes, for as Carol said, "What's the use of bothering with a +millionaire's son if you can't brag about him."</p> + +<p>And his devotion to his father's college chum was such that he wrote to +him regularly for a long time after, and came westward now and again to +renew the friendship so auspiciously begun.</p> + +<p>"But you can't call him a problem, father," said Carol keenly. "They +aren't problematic until they discriminate. And he doesn't. He's as fond +of Connie's conscience as he is of my complexion, as far as I can see." +She rubbed her velvet skin regretfully. She had two pimples yesterday +and he never even noticed them. Then she leaned forward and smiled. +"Father, you keep an eye on Connie. There's something in there that we +aren't on to yet." And with this cryptic remark, Carol turned her +attention to a small jar of cold cream the druggist had given her to +sample.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>THE TWINS HAVE A PROPOSAL</h3> + + +<p><big><b>I</b></big>T was half past three on a delightful summer afternoon. The twins stood +at the gate with two hatless youths, performing what seemed to be the +serious operation of separating their various tennis racquets and shoes +from the conglomerate jumble. Finally, laughing and calling back over +their shoulders, they sauntered lazily up the walk toward the house, and +the young men set off in the direction from which they had come. They +were hardly out of hearing distance when the front door opened, and Aunt +Grace beckoned hurriedly to the twins.</p> + +<p>"Come on, quick," she said. "Where in the world have you been all day? +Did you have any luncheon? Mrs. Forrest and Jim were here, and they +invited you to go home with them for a week in the country. I said I +knew you'd want to go,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> and they promised to come for you at four, but I +couldn't find you any place. I suppose it is too late now. It's—"</p> + +<p>"A week!"</p> + +<p>"At Forrests'?"</p> + +<p>"Come on, Lark, sure we have time enough. We'll be ready in fifteen +minutes."</p> + +<p>"Come on up, auntie, we'll tell you where we've been."</p> + +<p>The twins flew up the stairs, their aunt as close behind as she deemed +safe. Inside their own room they promptly, and ungracefully, kicked off +their loose pumps, tossed their tennis shoes and racquets on the bed, +and began tugging at the cords of their middy blouses.</p> + +<p>"You go and wash, Carol," said Lark, "while I comb. Then I can have the +bathroom to myself. And hurry up! You haven't any time to primp."</p> + +<p>"Pack the suit-case and the bag, will you, auntie, and—"</p> + +<p>"I already have," she answered, laughing at their frantic energy. "And I +put out these white dresses for you to wear, and—"</p> + +<p>"Gracious, auntie! They button in the back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> and have sixty buttons +apiece. We'll never have time to fasten them," expostulated Carol, +without diminishing her speed.</p> + +<p>"I'll button while you powder, that'll be time enough."</p> + +<p>"I won't have time to powder," called back Carol from the bathroom, +where she was splashing the water at a reckless rate. "I'll wear a veil +and powder when I get there. Did you pack any clean handkerchiefs, +auntie? I'm clear out. If you didn't put any in, you'd better go and +borrow Connie's. Lucky thing she's not here."</p> + +<p>Shining with zeal and soap, Carol dashed out, and Lark dashed in.</p> + +<p>"Are there any holes in these stockings?" Carol turned around, lifting +her skirts for inspection. "Well, I'm sorry, I won't have time to change +them.—Did they come in the auto? Good!" She was brushing her hair as +she talked. "Yes, we had a luncheon, all pie, though. We played tennis +this morning; we were intending to come home right along, or we'd have +phoned you. We were playing with George Castle and Fritzie Zale.—Is it +sticking out any place?" She lowered her head backward<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> for her aunt to +see. "Stick a pin in it, will you? Thanks. They dared us to go to the +pie counter and see which couple could eat the most pieces of lemon pie, +the couple which lost paying for all the pie. It's not like betting, you +know, it's a kind of reward of merit, like a Sunday-school prize. No, I +won't put on my slippers till the last thing, my heel's sore, my tennis +shoe rubbed the skin off. My feet seem to be getting tender. Think it's +old age?"</p> + +<p>Lark now emerged from the bathroom, and both twins performed a flying +exchange of dresses.</p> + +<p>"Who won?"</p> + +<p>"Lark and George ate eleven pieces, and Fritzie and I only nine. So +Fritzie paid. Then we went on the campus and played mumble-te-peg, or +whatever you call it. It is French, auntie."</p> + +<p>"Did they ask us to stay a whole week, auntie?" inquired Lark.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Jim was wearing his new gray suit and looked very nice. I've never +been out to their home. Is it very nice?"</p> + +<p>"Um, swell!" This was from Carol, Lark being less slangily inclined. +"They have about sixteen rooms, and two maids—they call them +'girls'—and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> electric lights, and a private water supply, +and—and—horses, and cows—oh, it's great! We've always been awfully +fond of Jim. The nicest thing about him is that he always takes a girl +home when he goes to class things and socials. I can't endure a fellow +who walks home by himself. Jim always asks Larkie and me first, and if +we are taken he gets some one else. Most boys, if they can't get first +choice, pike off alone."</p> + +<p>"Here, Carol, you have my petticoat. This is yours. You broke the +drawstring, and forgot—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mercy, so I did. Here, auntie, pin it over for me, will you? I'll +take the string along and put it in to-night."</p> + +<p>"Now, Carol," said Aunt Grace, smiling. "Be easy on him. He's so nice it +would be a shame to—"</p> + +<p>Carol threw up her eyes in horror. "I am shocked," she cried. Then she +dimpled. "But I wouldn't hurt Jim for anything. I'm very fond of him. Do +you really think there are any—er—indications—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know anything about it. I'm just judging by the rest of the +community."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lark was performing the really difficult feat of putting on and +buttoning her slippers standing on one foot for the purpose and stooping +low. Her face was flushed from the exertion.</p> + +<p>"Do you think he's crazy about you, Carol?" she inquired, rather +seriously, and without looking up from the shoe she was so laboriously +buttoning.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. There are a few circumstances which seem to point +that way. Take that new gray suit for instance. Now you know yourself, +Lark, he didn't need a new gray suit, and when a man gets a brand-new +suit for no apparent reason, you can generally put it down that he's +waxing romantic. Then there's his mother—she's begun telling me all his +good points, and how cute he was when he was born, and she showed me one +of his curls and a lot of his baby pictures—it made Jim wild when he +came in and caught her at it, and she tells me how good he is and how +much money he's got. That's pointed, very. But I must confess," she +concluded candidly, "that Jim himself doesn't act very loverly."</p> + +<p>"He thinks lots of you, I know," said Lark, still<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> seriously. "Whenever +he's alone with me he praises you every minute of the time."</p> + +<p>"That's nothing. When he's alone with me he praises you all the time, +too. Where's my hat, Lark? I'll bet Connie wore it, the little sinner! +Now what shall I do?"</p> + +<p>"You left it in the barn yesterday,—don't you remember you hung it on +the harness hook when we went out for eggs, and—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, so I did. There comes Connie now." Carol thrust her head out of the +window. "Connie, run out to the barn and bring my hat, will you? It's on +the harness hook. And hurry! Don't stop to ask questions, just trot +along and do as you're told."</p> + +<p>Carol returned again to her toilet. "Well, I guess I have time to powder +after all. I don't suppose we'll need to take any money, auntie, do you? +We won't be able to spend it in the country."</p> + +<p>"I think you'd better take a little. They might drive to town, or go to +a social, or something."</p> + +<p>"Can't do it. Haven't a cent."</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess I can lend you a little," was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> smiling reply. It was +a standing joke in the family that Carol had been financially hard +pressed ever since she began using powder several years previous.</p> + +<p>"Are you fond of Jim, Carol?" Lark jumped away backward in the +conversation, asking the question gravely, her eyes upon her sister's +face.</p> + +<p>"Hum! Yes, I am," was the light retort. "Didn't Prudence teach us to +love everybody?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be silly. I mean if he proposes to you, are you going to turn him +down, or not?"</p> + +<p>"What would you advise, Lark?" Carol's brows were painfully knitted. +"He's got five hundred acres of land, worth at least a hundred an acre, +and a lot of money in the bank,—his mother didn't say how much, but I +imagine several thousand anyhow. And he has that nice big house, and an +auto, and—oh, everything nice! Think of the fruit trees, Larkie! And +he's good-looking, too. And his mother says he is always good natured +even before breakfast, and that's very exceptional, you know! Very! I +don't know that I could do much better, do you, auntie? I'm sure I'd +look cute in a sun-bonnet and apron, milking the cows! So, boss, so, +there, now! So, boss!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, Carol!"</p> + +<p>"But there are objections, too. They have pigs. I can't bear pigs! +Pooooey, pooooey! The filthy little things! I don't know,—Jim and the +gray suit and the auto and the cows are very nice, but when I think of +Jim and overalls and pigs and onions and freckles I have goose flesh. +Here they come! Where's that other slipper? Oh, it's clear under the +bed!" She wriggled after it, coming out again breathless. "Did I rub the +powder all off?" she asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>The low honk of the car sounded outside, and the twins dumped a +miscellaneous assortment of toilet articles into the battered suit-case +and the tattered hand-bag. Carol grabbed her hat from Connie, leisurely +strolling through the hall with it, and sent her flying after her +gloves. "If you can't find mine, bring your own," she called after her.</p> + +<p>Aunt Grace and Connie escorted them triumphantly down the walk to the +waiting car where the young man in the new sentimental gray suit stood +beside the open door. His face was boyishly eager, and his eyes were +full of a satisfaction that had a sort of excitement in it, too. Aunt +Grace<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> looked at him and sighed. "Poor boy," she thought. "He is nice! +Carol is a mean little thing!"</p> + +<p>He smiled at the twins impartially. "Shall we flip a coin to see who I +get in front?" he asked them, laughing.</p> + +<p>His mother leaned out from the back seat, and smiled at the girls very +cordially. "Hurry, twinnies," she said, "we must start, or we'll be late +for supper. Come in with me, won't you, Larkie?"</p> + +<p>"What a greasy schemer she is," thought Carol, climbing into her place +without delay.</p> + +<p>Jim placed the battered suit-case and the tattered bag beneath the seat, +and drew the rug over his mother's knees. Then he went to Lark's side, +and tucked it carefully about her feet.</p> + +<p>"It's awfully dusty," he said. "You shouldn't have dolled up so. Shall I +put your purse in my pocket? Don't forget you promised to feed the +chickens—I'm counting on you to do it for me."</p> + +<p>Then he stepped in beside Carol, laughing into her bright face, and the +good-bys rang back and forth as the car rolled away beneath the heavy +arch of oak leaves that roofed in Maple Avenue.</p> + +<p>The twins fairly reveled in the glories of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> country through the +golden days that followed, and enjoyed every minute of every day, and +begrudged the hours they spent in sleep. The time slipped by "like +banana skins," declared Carol crossly, and refused to explain her +comparison. And the last day of their visit came. Supper was over at +seven o'clock, and Lark said, with something of wistfulness in her +voice, "I'm going out to the orchard for a farewell weep all by myself. +And don't any of you disturb me,—I'm so ugly when I cry."</p> + +<p>So she set out alone, and Jim, a little awkwardly, suggested that Carol +take a turn or so up and down the lane with him. Mrs. Forrest stood at +the window and watched them, tearful-eyed, but with tenderness.</p> + +<p>"My little boy," she said to herself, "my little boy. But she's a dear, +sweet, pretty girl."</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Jim was acquitting himself badly. His face was pale. He +was nervous, ill at ease. He stammered when he spoke. Self-consciousness +was not habitual to this young man of the Iowa farm. He was not the +awkward, ignorant, gangling farm-hand we meet in books and see on +stages. He had attended the high school in Mount<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> Mark, and had been +graduated from the state agricultural college with high honors. He was a +farmer, as his father had been before him, but he was a farmer of the +new era, one of those men who takes plain farming and makes it a +profession, almost a fine art. Usually he was self-possessed, assertive, +confident, but, in the presence of this sparkling twin, for once he was +abashed.</p> + +<p>Carol was in an ecstasy of delight. She was not a man-eater, perhaps, +but she was nearly romance-mad. She thought only of the wild excitement +of having a sure-enough lover, the hurt of it was yet a little beyond +her grasp. "Oh, Carol, don't be so sweet," Lark had begged her once. +"How can the boys help being crazy about you, and it hurts them." "It +doesn't hurt anything but their pride when they get snubbed," had been +the laughing answer. "Do you want to break men's hearts?" "Well,—it's +not at all bad for a man to have a broken heart," the irrepressible +Carol had insisted. "They never amount to anything until they have a +real good disappointment. Then they brace up and amount to something. +See? I really think it's a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> kindness to give them a heart-break, and get +them started."</p> + +<p>The callow youths of Mount Mark, of the Epworth League, and the college, +were almost unanimous in laying their adoration at Carol's feet. But +Carol saw the elasticity, the buoyancy, of loves like these, and she +couldn't really count them. She felt that she was ripe for a bit of +solid experience now, and there was nothing callow about Jim—he was +solid enough. And now, although she could see that his feelings stirred, +she felt nothing but excitement and curiosity. A proposal, a real one! +It was imminent, she felt it.</p> + +<p>"Carol," he began abruptly, "I am in love."</p> + +<p>"A-are you?" Carol had not expected him to begin in just that way.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—I have been for a long time, with the sweetest and dearest girl +in the world. I know I am not half good enough for her, but—I love her +so much that—I believe I could make her happy."</p> + +<p>"D-do you?" Carol was frightened. She reflected that it wasn't so much +fun as she had expected. There was something wonderful in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> eyes, and +in his voice. Maybe Lark was right,—maybe it did hurt! Oh, she really +shouldn't have been quite so nice to him!</p> + +<p>"She is young—so am I—but I know what I want, and if I can only have +her, I'll do anything I—" His voice broke a little. He looked very +handsome, very grown-up, very manly. Carol quivered. She wanted to run +away and cry. She wanted to put her arms around him and tell him she was +very, very sorry and she would never do it again as long as she lived +and breathed.</p> + +<p>"Of course," he went on, "I am not a fool. I know there isn't a girl +like her in ten thousand, but—she's the one I want, and—Carol, do you +reckon there is any chance for me? You ought to know. Lark doesn't have +secrets from you, does she? Do you think she'll have me?"</p> + +<p>Certainly this was the surprise of Carol's life. If it was romance she +wanted, here it was in plenty. She stopped short in the daisy-bright +lane and stared at him.</p> + +<p>"Jim Forrest," she demanded, "is it Lark you want to marry, or me?"</p> + +<p>"Lark, of course!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p> + +<p>Carol opened her lips and closed them. She did it again. Finally she +spoke. "Well, of all the idiots! If you want to marry Lark, what in the +world are you out here proposing to me for?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not proposing to you," he objected. "I'm just telling you about +it."</p> + +<p>"But what for? What's the object? Why don't you go and rave to her?"</p> + +<p>He smiled a little. "Well, I guess I thought telling you first was one +way of breaking it to her gently."</p> + +<p>"I'm perfectly disgusted with you," Carol went on, "perfectly. Here I've +been expecting you to propose to me all week, and—"</p> + +<p>"Propose to you! My stars!"</p> + +<p>"Don't interrupt me," Carol snapped. "Last night I lay awake for +hours,—look at the rings beneath my eyes—"</p> + +<p>"I don't see 'em," he interrupted again, smiling more broadly.</p> + +<p>"Just thinking out a good flowery rejection for you, and then you trot +me out here and propose to Lark! Well, if that isn't nerve!"</p> + +<p>Jim laughed loudly at this. He was used to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> Carol, and enjoyed her +little outbursts. "I can't think what on earth made you imagine I'd want +to propose to you," he said, shaking his head as though appalled at the +idea.</p> + +<p>Carol's eyes twinkled at that, but she did not permit him to see it. +"Why shouldn't I think so? Didn't you get a new gray suit? And haven't I +the best complexion in Mount Mark? Don't all the men want to propose to +a complexion like mine?"</p> + +<p>"Shows their bum taste," he muttered.</p> + +<p>Carol twinkled again. "Of course," she agreed, "all men have bum taste, +if it comes to that."</p> + +<p>He laughed again, then he sobered. "Do you think Lark will—"</p> + +<p>"I think Lark will turn you down," said Carol promptly, "and I hope she +does. You aren't good enough for her. No one in the world is good enough +for Lark except myself. If she should accept you—I don't think she +will, but if she has a mental aberration and does—I'll give you my +blessing, and come and live with you six months in the year, and Lark +shall come and live with me the other six months, and you can run the +farm and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> send us an allowance. But I don't think she'll have you; I'll +be disappointed in her if she does."</p> + +<p>Carol was silent a moment then. She was remembering many things,—Lark's +grave face that day in the parsonage when they had discussed the love of +Jim, her unwonted gentleness and her quiet manners during this visit, +and one night when Carol, suddenly awakening, had found her weeping +bitterly into her pillow. Lark had said it was a headache, and was +better now, and Carol had gone to sleep again, but she remembered now +that Lark never had headaches! And she remembered how very often lately +Lark had put her arms around her shoulders and looked searchingly into +her face, and Lark was always wistful, too, of late! She sighed. Yes, +she caught on at last, "had been pushed on to it," she thought angrily. +She had been a wicked, blind, hateful little simpleton or she would have +seen it long ago. But she said nothing of this to Jim.</p> + +<p>"You'd better run along then, and switch your proposal over to her, or +I'm likely to accept you on my own account, just for a joke. And be +sure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> and tell her I'm good and sore that I didn't get a chance to use +my flowery rejection. But I'm almost sure she'll turn you down."</p> + +<p>Then Carol stood in the path, and watched Jim as he leaped lightly over +fences and ran through the sweet meadow. She saw Lark spring to her feet +and step out from the shade of an apple tree, and then Jim took her in +his arms.</p> + +<p>After that, Carol rushed into the house and up the stairs. She flung +herself on her knees beside her bed and buried her face in the white +spread.</p> + +<p>"Lark," she whispered, "Lark!" She clenched her hands, and her shoulders +shook. "My little twin," she cried again, "my nice old Lark." Then she +got up and walked back and forth across the floor. Sometimes she shook +her fist. Sometimes a little crooked smile softened her lips. Once she +stamped her foot, and then laughed at herself. For an hour she paced up +and down. Then she turned on the light, and went to the mirror, where +she smoothed her hair and powdered her face as carefully as ever.</p> + +<p>"It's a good joke on me," she said, smiling, "but it's just as good a +one on Mrs. Forrest. I think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> I'll go and have a laugh at her. And I'll +pretend I knew it all along."</p> + +<p>She found the woman lying in a hammock on the broad piazza where a broad +shaft of light from the open door fell upon her. Carol stood beside her, +smiling brightly.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Forrest," she said, "I know a perfectly delicious secret. Shall I +tell you?"</p> + +<p>The woman sat up, holding out her arms. Carol dropped on her knees +beside her, smiling mischievously at the expression on her face.</p> + +<p>"Cupid has been at work," she said softly, "and your own son has fallen +a victim."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Forrest sniffed slightly, but she looked lovingly at the fair sweet +face. "I am sure I can not wonder," she answered in a gentle voice. "Is +it all settled?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'A'">At</ins> any rate, he is proposing to her in the orchard, and I +am pretty sure she's going to accept him."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Forrest's arms fell away from Carol's shoulders. "Lark!" she +ejaculated.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—didn't you know it?" Carol's voice was mildly and innocently +surprised.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Lark!" Mrs. Forrest was plainly dumfounded. "I—I thought it was you!"</p> + +<p>"Me!" Carol was intensely astonished. "Me? Oh, dear Mrs. Forrest, +whatever in the world made you think that?"</p> + +<p>"Why—I don't know," she faltered weakly, "I just naturally supposed it +was you. I asked him once where he left his heart, and he said, 'At the +parsonage,' and so of course I thought it was you."</p> + +<p>Carol laughed gaily. "What a joke," she cried. "But you are more +fortunate than you expected, for it is my precious old Larkie. But don't +be too glad about it, or you may hurt my feelings."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am surprised, I confess, but I believe I like Lark as well as I +do you, and of course Jim's the one to decide. People say Lark is more +sensible than you are, but it takes a good bit of a man to get beyond a +face as pretty as yours. I'm kind o' proud of Jim!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>THE GIRL WHO WOULDN'T PROPOSE</h3> + + +<p><big><b>I</b></big>T took a long time for Carol to recover from the effect of Lark's +disloyalty, as she persisted in calling it. For several weeks she didn't +twinkle at all. But when at last the smiles came easy again, she wrote +to Mr. Duke, her p'fessor no longer, but now a full-fledged young +minister. She apologized sweetly for her long delay.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"But you will forgive me when you have read this," +she wrote. "Cupid is working havoc in our family. +Of course, no one outside the home circle knows +yet, but I insisted on telling you because you +have been such a grand good friend to us for so +long. We may seem young to you, because you can't +forget when we were freshmen, but we are really +very grown up. We act quite mature now, and never +think of playing jokes. But I didn't finish my +news, did I?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is Jim Forrest—he was in high school when we +were. Remember him? Larkie and I were out to spend +a week, and—but I needn't go into particulars. I +knew you would be interested. The whole family is +very happy about it, he is a great favorite with +every one. But how our family is going to pieces! +Still, since it is Jim—! He <i>is</i> nice, isn't he? +But you wouldn't dare say no." </p></div> + +<p>Carol's eyes glittered wickedly as she sealed this letter, which she had +penned with greatest care. And a few days later, when the answer came, +she danced gleefully up the stairs,—not at all "mature" in manner, and +locked the door behind her while she read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot">"Dear Carol: + +<p>"Indeed I am very interested, and I wish you all +the joy in the world. Tell Jim for me how very +much I think he is to be congratulated. He seems a +fine fellow, and I know you will be happy. It was +a surprise, I admit—I knew he was doing the very +devoted—but you have seemed so young to me, +always. I can't imagine you too grown up for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> +jokes, though you do sound more 'mature' in this +letter than you have before. Lark will be lonely, +I am afraid.</p> + +<p>"I am very busy with my work, so you will +understand if my letters come less frequently, +won't you? And you will be too busy with your own +happiness to bother with an old professor any more +anyhow. I have enjoyed our friendship very +much,—more than you will ever know,—and I want +once more to hope you may be the happiest woman in +the world. You deserve to be.</p> + +<div class='right'> +<span style="margin-right: 5em;">"Very sincerely your friend,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="margin-right: 2em;">"<span class="smcap">David A. Duke.</span>"</span><br /> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Carol lay down on the bed and crushed the letter ecstatically between +her hands. Then she burst out laughing. Then she cried a little, +nervously, and laughed again. Then she smoothed the letter +affectionately, and curled up on the bed with a pad of paper and her +father's fountain-pen to answer the letter.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"My dear Mr. Duke: However in the world could you +make such a mistake. I've been laugh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span>ing ever +since I got your letter, but I'm vexed too. He's +nice, all right; he's just fine, but I don't want +him! And think how annoyed Lark would be if she +could see it. I am not engaged to Jim +Forrest,—nor to any one. It's Lark. I certainly +didn't say it was I, did I? We're all so fond of +Jim that it really is a pleasure to the whole +family to count him one of us, and Lark grows more +deliriously joyful all the time. But I! I know +you're awfully busy, of course, and I hate to +intrude, but you must write one little postal card +to apologize for your error, and I'll understand +how hard you are working when you do not write +again.</p> + +<div class='right'> +<span style="margin-right: 3em;">"Hastily, but always sincerely,</span><br /><br /> +"<span class="smcap">Carol.</span>"<br /> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Carol jumped up and caught up her hat and rushed all the way down-town +to the post-office to get that letter started for Danville, Illinois, +where the Reverend Mr. Duke was located. Her face was so radiant, and +her eyes were so heavenly blue, and so sparkling bright, that people on +the street turned to look after her admiringly.</p> + +<p>She was feverishly impatient until the answer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> arrived, and was not at +all surprised that it came under special delivery stamp, though Lark +lifted her eyebrows quizzically, and Aunt Grace smiled suggestively, and +her father looked up with sudden questioning in his face. Carol made no +comment, only ran up to her room and locked the door once more.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Carol, you awful little scamp, you did that on +purpose, and you know it. You never mentioned +Lark's name. Well, if you wanted to give me the +scare of my life, you certainly succeeded. I +didn't want to lose my little chum, and I knew +very well that no man in his proper senses would +allow his sweetheart to be as good a comrade to +another man as I want you to be to me. Of course I +was disappointed. Of course I expected to be busy +for a while. Of course I failed to see the +sterling worth of Jim Forrest. I see it now, +though. I think he's a prince, and as near worth +being in your family as anybody could be. I'm sure +we'll be great friends, and tell Lark for me that +I am waxing enthusiastic over his good qualities +even to the point of being inarticulate. Tell her +how happy I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> am over it, a good deal happier than +I've been for the past several days, and I am +wishing them both a world of joy. I'm having one +myself, and I find it well worth having. I could +shake you, Carol, for playing such a trick on me. +I can just see you crouch down and giggle when you +read this. You wait, my lady. My turn is coming. I +think I'll run down to Mount Mark next week to see +my uncle—he's not very well. Don't have any +dates.</p> + +<div class='right'> +"Sincerely, D. D."<br /> +</div> +</div> + +<p>And Carol laughed again, and wiped her eyes.</p> + +<p>The Reverend Mr. Duke's devotion to his elderly uncle in Mount Mark was +a most beautiful thing to see. Every few weeks he "ran down for a few +days," and if he spent most of his time recounting his uncle's symptoms +before the sympathetic Starrs, no one could be surprised at that. He and +Mr. Starr naturally had much in common, both ministers, and both—at any +rate, he was very devoted to his uncle, and Carol grew up very, very +fast, and smiled a great deal, but laughed much less frequently than in +other days. There was a shy sweet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>ness about her that made her father +watch her anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Is Carol sick, Grace?" he asked one day, turning suddenly to his +sister-in-law.</p> + +<p>She smiled curiously. "N-no, I think not. Why?"</p> + +<p>"She seems very—sweet."</p> + +<p>"Yes. She feels very—sweet," was the enigmatical response. And Mr. +Starr muttered something about women and geometry and went away, shaking +his head. And Aunt Grace smiled again.</p> + +<p>But the months passed away. Lark, not too absorbed in her own happiness +to find room for her twin's affairs, at last grew troubled. She and Aunt +Grace often held little conferences together when Carol was safely out +of the way.</p> + +<p>"Whatever do you suppose is the matter?" Lark would wonder anxiously. To +which her aunt always answered patiently, "Oh, just wait. He isn't sure +she's grown-up enough yet."</p> + +<p>Then there came a quiet night when Carol and Mr. Duke sat in the +living-room, idly discussing the weather, and looking at Connie who was +deeply<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> immersed in a book on the other side of the big reading lamp. +Conversation between them lagged so noticeably that they sighed with +relief when she finally laid down her book, and twisted around in her +chair until she had them both in full view.</p> + +<p>"Books are funny," she began brightly. "I don't believe half the written +stuff ever did happen—I don't believe it could. Do girls ever propose, +Mr. Duke?"</p> + +<p>"No one ever proposed to me," he answered, laughing.</p> + +<p>"No?" she queried politely. "Maybe no one wanted you badly enough. But I +wonder if they ever do? Writers say so. I can't believe it somehow. It +seems so—well—unnecessary, someway. Carol and I were talking about it +this afternoon."</p> + +<p>Carol looked up startled.</p> + +<p>"What does Carol think about it?" he queried.</p> + +<p>"Well, she said she thought in ordinary cases girls were clever enough +to get what they wanted without asking for it."</p> + +<p>Carol moved restlessly in her chair, her face drooping a little, and Mr. +Duke laughed.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I know none of our girls would do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> such a thing," said +Connie, serene in her family pride. "But Carol says she must admit she'd +like to find some way to make a man say what anybody could see with half +an eye he wanted to say anyhow, only—"</p> + +<p>Connie stopped abruptly. Mr. Duke had turned to Carol, his keen eyes +searching her face, but Carol sank in the big chair and turned her face +away from him against the leather cushion.</p> + +<p>"Connie," she said, "of course no girl would propose, no girl would want +to—I was only joking—"</p> + +<p>Mr. Duke laughed openly then. "Let's go and take a walk, shan't we, +Carol? It's a grand night."</p> + +<p>"You needn't go to get rid of me," said Connie, rising. "I was just +going anyhow."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't go," said Mr. Duke politely.</p> + +<p>"Don't go," echoed Carol pleadingly.</p> + +<p>Connie stepped to the doorway, then paused and looked back at them. +Sudden illumination came to her as she scanned their faces, the man's +clear-cut, determined, eager—Carol's shy, and scared, and—hopeful. She +turned quickly back toward her sister, pain darkening her eyes. Carol +was the last of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> all the girls,—it would leave her alone,—and he was +too old for her. Her lips quivered a little, and her face shadowed more +darkly. But they did not see it. The man's eyes were intent on Carol's +lovely features, and Carol was studying her slender fingers. Connie drew +a long breath, and looked down upon her sister with a great protecting +tenderness in her heart. She wanted to catch her up in her strong young +arms and carry her wildly out of the room—away from the man who sat +there—waiting for her.</p> + +<p>Carol lifted her face at that moment, and turned slowly toward Mr. Duke. +Connie saw her eyes. They were luminous.</p> + +<p>Connie's tense figure relaxed then, and she turned at once toward the +door. "I am going," she said in a low voice. But she looked back again +before she closed the door after her. "Carol," she said in a whisper, +"you—you're a darling. I—I've always thought so."</p> + +<p>Carol did not hear her,—she did not hear the door closing behind +her—she had forgotten Connie was there.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Duke stood up and walked quickly across the room and Carol rose to +meet him. He put his arms about her, strongly, without hesitating.</p> + +<p>"Carol," he said, "my little song-bird,"—and he laughed, but very +tenderly, "would you like to know how to make me say what you know I +want to say?"</p> + +<p>"I—I—" she began tremulously, clasping her hands against his breast, +and looking intently, as if fascinated, at his square firm chin so very +near her eyes. She had never observed it so near at hand before. She +thought it was a lovely chin,—in another man she would have called it +distinctly "bossy."</p> + +<p>"You <i>would</i> try to make me, when you know I've been gritting my teeth +for years, waiting for you to get grown up. You've been awfully slow +about it, Carol, and I've been in such a hurry for you."</p> + +<p>She rested limply in his arms now, breathing in little broken sighs, not +trying to speak.</p> + +<p>"You have known it a long time, haven't you? And I thought I was hiding +it so cleverly." He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> drew her closer in his arms. "You are too young for +me, Carol," he said regretfully. "I am very old."</p> + +<p>"I—I like 'em old," she whispered shyly.</p> + +<p>With one hand he drew her head to his shoulder, where he could feel the +warm fragrant breath against the "lovely chin."</p> + +<p>"You like 'them' old," he repeated, smiling. "You are very generous. One +old one is all I want you to like." But when he leaned toward her lips, +Carol drew away swiftly. "Don't be afraid of me, Carol. You didn't mind +once when I kissed you." He laid his hand softly on her round cheek. "I +am too old, dearest, but I've been loving you for years I guess. I've +been waiting for you since you were a little freshman, only I didn't +know it for a while. Say something, Carol—I don't want you to feel +timid with me. You love me, don't you? Tell me, if you do."</p> + +<p>"I—I." She looked up at him desperately. "I—well, I made you say it, +didn't I?"</p> + +<p>"Did you want me to say it, dearest? Have you been waiting, too? How +long have you—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, a long time; since that night among the rose bushes at the +parsonage."</p> + +<p>"Since then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; that was why it didn't break my pledge when you kissed me. Because +I—was waiting then."</p> + +<p>"Do you love me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, P'fessor, don't make me say it right out in plain English—not +to-night. I'm pretty nearly going to cry now, and—" she twinkled a +little then, like herself, "you know what crying does to my complexion."</p> + +<p>But he did not smile. "Don't cry," he said. "We want to be happy +to-night. You will tell me to-morrow. To-night—"</p> + +<p>"To-night," she said sweetly, turning in his arms so that her face was +toward him again, "to-night—" She lifted her arms, and put them softly +about his neck, the laces falling back and showing her pink dimpled +elbows. "To-night, my dearest,—" She lifted her lips to him, smiling.</p> + + +<h2>THE END</h2> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3> +<p>Obvious punctuation errors corrected.</p> +<p>One instance each of "twinship" and "twin-ship" was retained.</p> +<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. +Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRUDENCE SAYS SO***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 21635-h.txt or 21635-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/6/3/21635">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/6/3/21635</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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