"You punish us this time, Fairy," begged Carol. "We—we don't want the rest of the family to know. We'll take any kind of punishment, but keep it dark, won't you? Prudence will soon forget, she's so awfully full of Jerry these days."
"I'll talk it over with Prudence," said Fairy. "But—I think we'll have to tell the family."
Lark moved her feet restlessly. "Well, you needn't tell Connie," she said. "Having the laugh come back on us is the very meanest kind of a punishment."
Fairy looked at them a moment, wondering if, indeed, their punishment had been sufficient.
"Well, little twins," she said, "I guess I will take charge of this myself. Here is your punishment." She stood up again, and looked down at them with sparkling eyes as they gazed at her expectantly.
"We caught on that it was a joke. We knew you were listening in the closet. And Prudence and I acted our little parts to give you one good scare. Who's the laugh on now? Are we square? Supper's ready." And Fairy ran down-stairs, laughing, followed by two entirely abashed and humbled twins.
CHAPTER III
A GIFT FROM HEAVEN
THE first of April in the Mount Mark parsonage was a time of trial and tribulation, frequently to the extent of weeping and gnashing of teeth. The twins were no respecters of persons, and feeling that the first of April rendered all things justifiable to all men, they made life as burdensome to their father as to Connie, and Fairy and Prudence lived in a state of perpetual anguish until the twins fell asleep at night well satisfied but worn out with the day's activities. The twins were bordering closely to the first stage of grown-up womanhood, but on the first of April they swore they would always be young! The tricks were more dignified, more carefully planned and scientifically executed than in the days of their rollicking girlhood,—but they were all the more heart-breaking on that account.