"I do not care for Ducks," said Prudence. "Of course, they look very nice swimming around on the water, but when it comes to eating,—I'll take spring chicken every time."
Carol did not mention "Duck" again for three days.
But there came a day when Fairy was out in the country. Connie had gone driving with her father. The moment had arrived. The twins had their plan of campaign memorized, and they sauntered in to Prudence with a nonchalance that was all assumed.
"Prudence," Lark began, "we're writing a book."
"That's nice," said Prudence. Conversation languished. The subject seemed exhausted.
Carol came to the rescue. "It's a very nice book. It's a love-story, and perfectly thrilling. Larkie does the writing, but I criticize and offer suggestions."
"That's kind of you."
A pause.
"I'm going to dedicate it to Carol,—To my beloved sister, to whose kindness and sympathy, I owe all that I am,—or something like that," Lark explained hopefully.
"How proud Carol will be!"