They looked back again to the piazza. Ethel had gone and the twins were strolling arm-in-arm over the green lawn.
[CHAPTER VII—Poetry and Prose]
Janet ran down the hall, waving a letter over her head.
“Sally, Phyllis, where are you?” she called.
The door of Sally’s room opened, and Prue came out carrying a drawer piled high with clothes.
“Hello there!” she called. “Come and help me move.”
“Oh, then you know Daphne is coming? I just had a letter from her and I’m trying to find Sally and Phyllis,” Janet replied, taking one end of the heavy drawer.
“You’ll find them all in there.” Prue nodded her head towards the door she had just left. “They are stuffing my peanut butter, eating my crackers and making fun of my poetry.”
“Why, Prue, I didn’t know you wrote,” Janet exclaimed.
“I don’t,” Prue told her; “that is, not for publication, but every once in a while I put things down on paper and somehow or other they rhyme.”