There was no apparent ground for her alarm. The twins came back with the potatoes, peeled some for luncheon, and set the table, their faces still bright and smiling. Prudence's eyes, often fastened upon their angelic countenances, grew more and more troubled.
In the afternoon, they joined the little circle on the porch, but not to sew. They took a book, and lay down on a rug with the book before them, reading together. Evidently they were all absorbed. An hour passed, two hours, three. At times Carol pointed to a line, and said in a low voice, "That's good, isn't it?" And Lark would answer, "Dandy!—Have you read this?"
Prudence, in spite of her devotion to the embroidering of large S's on assorted pieces of linen, never forgot the twins for a moment.
"What are you reading?" she asked at last aimlessly, her only desire to be reassured by the sound of their voices.
There was an almost imperceptible pause. Then Carol answered,—her chin was in her palms which may have accounted for the mumbling of the words.
"Scianceanelth."
"What?"
Another pause, a little more perceptible this time. "Science and Health," Carol said at last, quite distinctly.
"Science and Health," Prudence repeated, in a puzzled tone. "Is it a doctor book?"
"Why—something of the sort,—yes," said Carol dubiously.