, and Carol was marching me off like grim
death."

Carol smiled, relieved now that the family commentary was over. "It was
very natural. Mrs. Curtiss begged her to do it, and Lark refused. That
always happens, every time the Sunday-school gives an entertainment. But
Mrs. Curtiss went on to say how badly the Sunday-school needs the money,
and how big a drawing card it would be for both of us twins to be on the
program, one right after the other, and how well it would look for the
parsonage, and it never occurred to me to warn Lark, for I never dreamed
of her doing it. And all of a sudden she said, 'All right, then, I'll do
it,' and Mrs. Curtiss gave her a piece and we came home. But I'm not
worried about it. Lark can do anything if she only tries."

"I thought it wouldn't hurt me to try it once," Lark volunteered in her
own defense.

Aunt Grace nodded, with a smile of interested approval.

"I'm proud of you, Lark, quite proud of you," her father said warmly.
"It's a big thing for you to make such a plunge,--just fine."

"I'm proud of you now, too," Connie said darkly. "The question is, will
we be proud of you after the concert?"

Lark sighed dolorously.

"Oh, pooh!" encouraged Carol. "Anybody can speak a silly little old
piece like that. And it will look so nice to have our names right
together on the program. It'll bring out all the high-school folks,
sure."

"Yes, they'll come to hear Lark all right," Fairy smiled. "But she'll
make it go, of course. And it will give Carol a chance to show her
cleverness by telling her how to do it."

So as soon as supper was over, Carol said decidedly, "Now, Connie,
you'll have to help me with the dishes the next two weeks, for Lark's
got to practise on that piece. Lark, you must read it over, very
thoughtfully first to get the meaning. Then just read it and read it and
read it, a dozen times, a hundred times, over and over and over. And
pretty soon you'll know it."

"I'll bet I don't," was the discouraging retort, as Lark, with
pronounced distaste, took the slip of paper and sat down in the corner
to read the "blooming thing," as she muttered crossly to herself.

Connie and Carol did up the dishes in dreadful silence, and then Carol
returned to the charge. "How many times did you read it?"

"Fourteen and a half," was the patient answer. "It's a silly thing,
Carol. There's no sense to it. 'The wind went drifting o'er the lea.'"

"Oh, that's not so bad," Carol said helpf