The _Daily News_ 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 _Daily News_, 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 the news
while it was news, without waiting to find what the other Republican
papers of the state thought 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!

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.

"Am I all right? Do I look literary? Oh, oh," gurgled Lark, with music
in her voice.

Carol sniffed.

"Oh, isn't it a glorious morning?" sang Lark again. "Isn't everything
wonderful, father?"

"Lark Starr," cried Carol passionately, "I should 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."

Lark wheeled about abruptly and stared at her sister, the fire slowly
dying out of her eyes.

"Why, Carol," she began slowly, in a low voice, without music.

"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--"

Carol's defiance ended in a poorly suppressed sob and a rush of tears.

Lark threw her gloves on the table.

"I won't go at all," she said. "I won't go a step. If--if