that!"

"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."

"Oh, Prudence," cried Lark dramatically, "I forgot to tell you. You
can't get married after all."

For ten seconds Prudence, as well as Fairy and their aunt, stared in
speechless amazement. Then Prudence smiled.

"Oh, can't I? What's the joke now?"

"Joke! It's no joke. Carol's sick, that's what's the joke. You can't be
married without Carol, can you?"

A burst of gay laughter greeted this announcement.

"Carol sick! She acts sick!"

"She looks sick!"

"Where is she sick?"

Carol leaned limply back against the pillar, trying to compose her
bright face into a semblance of illness. "In my tummy," she announced
weakly.

This called forth more laughter. "It's her conscience," said Fairy.

"It's matching pennies. Maybe she swallowed one."

"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.

Carol sat up quickly. "Welcome home, Aunt Grace!" she cried. "Did you
have a pleasant visit?"

"Carol," reproved Prudence.

"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."

Lark swallowed with a forced effort. "Did it hurt, Carol? How did you
get it all out in one breath?"

"Lark, I do wish you wouldn't gulp that way when folks use big words,"
said Fairy. "It looks--awful."

"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."

Carol obediently sat down, and looked sicker than ever.

"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."

"Pie! You were right, Aunt Grace! That's the way pie works."

"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 bett