an. They'll
probably dismiss them--I don't suppose they'll give them letters. But it
must be all over before papa comes back."

Then she hissed in Prudence's ear, "Now cry."

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."

The two wept together, encouraged by the death-like stillness in the
closet on the other side of the wall.

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."

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.

In the meantime, the shocked and horrified twins 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.

"They--they wo-won't p-p-put us out of the ch-ch-church," gasped Carol.

"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."

"Pa-p-pa'll--papa'll--" began Carol, her teeth chattering.

"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."

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