"Be sure and leave quite a few stitches in, Lark," she whispered once. "We want it to hang together until Babbie gets here."
That was all. Presently Lark emerged, and their own door closed behind them.
"It's a good thing father has to go to the trustees' meeting to-night, isn't it?" asked Carol. And Lark agreed, absently. She was thinking of the oysters.
As soon as they finished supper, Lark said, "Don't you think we'd better go right to bed, Prue? We don't want to taint the atmosphere of the parsonage. Of course, Fairy will want to wash the dishes herself to make sure they are clean and shining."
"Oh, no," disclaimed Fairy, still good-naturedly. "I can give an extra rub to the ones we want to use,—that is enough. I do appreciate the thought, though, thanks very much."
So the twins plunged in, carefully keeping Connie beside them. "She has such a full-to-overflowing look," said Carol. "If we don't keep hold of her, she'll let something bubble over." Connie had a dismal propensity for giving things away,—the twins had often suffered from it. To-night, they were determined to forestall such a calamity.
Then they all three went to bed. To be sure it was ridiculously early, but they were all determined.
"We feel weak under this unusual strain. Our nerves can't stand the tension. We really must retire to rest. Maybe a good night's sleep will restore us to normal," Lark explained gravely.
Fairy only laughed. "Good!" she cried. "Do go to bed. The only time I am sure of you is when you are in your beds. Do you mind if I tie you in, to make assurance doubly sure?"
But the twins and Connie had disappeared.