"I don't know. You know we Methodists are pretty set! Like as not they'll say we'd be a bad influence among the members."
"Twins!"
The call outside their door sounded like the trump of doom to the conscience-smitten twins, and they clutched each other, startled, crying out. Then, sheepishly, they stepped out of the closet to find Fairy regarding them quizzically from the doorway. She repressed a smile with difficulty, as she said quietly:
"I was just talking to Mrs. Mains over the phone. She's going to a Christian Science lecture to-night, and she said she wished I wasn't a minister's daughter and she'd ask me to go along. I told her I didn't care to, but said you twins would enjoy it. She'll be here in the car for you at seven forty-five."
"I won't go," cried Carol. "I won't go near their old church."
"You won't go." Fairy was astonished. "Why—I told her you would be glad to go."
"I won't," repeated Carol, with nervous passion. "I will not. You can't make me."
Lark shook her head in corroborative denial.
"Well, that's queer." Fairy frowned, then she smiled.
Suddenly, to the tempest-tossed and troubled twins, the tall splendid Fairy seemed a haven of refuge. Her eyes were very kind. Her smile was sweet. And with a cry of relief, and shame, and fear, the twins plunged upon her and told their little tale.