"She looks sick!"
"Where is she sick?"
Carol leaned limply back against the pillar, trying to compose her bright face into a semblance of illness. "In my tummy," she announced weakly.
This called forth more laughter. "It's her conscience," said Fairy.
"It's matching pennies. Maybe she swallowed one."
"It's probably those two pieces of pie she ate for dinner, and the one that vanished from the pantry shortly after," suggested Aunt Grace.
Carol sat up quickly. "Welcome home, Aunt Grace!" she cried. "Did you have a pleasant visit?"
"Carol," reproved Prudence.
"I didn't mean it for impudence, auntie," said Carol, getting up and bending affectionately over the hammock, gently caressing the brown hair just beginning to silver about her forehead. "But it does amuse me so to hear a lady of your age and dignity indulge in such lavish conversational exercises."
Lark swallowed with a forced effort. "Did it hurt, Carol? How did you get it all out in one breath?"