. It grew louder as she sat down with a
comforting little grin at Lark. Then as the clapping continued,
something of her natural impishness entered her heart.

"Lark," she whispered, "go out and make a bow."

"Mercy!" gasped Lark. "I didn't do anything."

"It was supposed to be you--go on, Lark! Hurry! You've got to! Think
what a joke it will be."

Lark hesitated, but Carol's dominance was compelling.

"Do as I tell you," came the peremptory order, and Lark arose from her
chair, stepped out before the astonished audience and made a slow and
graceful bow.

This time the applause ran riot, for people of less experience than
those of Mount Mark could tell that the twins were playing a game. As it
continued, Carol caught Larkin's hand in hers, and together they stepped
out once more, laughing and bowing right and left.

Lark was the last one in that night, for she and Jim celebrated her
defeat with two ice-cream sodas a piece at the corner drug store.

"I disgraced the parsonage," she said meekly, as she stepped into the
family circle, waiting to receive her.

"Indeed you didn't," said Fairy. "It was too bad, but Carol passed it
off nicely, and then, turning it into a joke that way took all the
embarrassment out of it. It was perfectly all right, and we weren't a
bit ashamed."

"And you did look awfully sweet when you made your bow," Connie said
warmly,--for when a member of the family was down, no one ventured a
laugh, laugh-loving though they were.

Curious to say, the odd little freak of substitution only endeared the
twins to the people of Mount Mark the more.

"By ginger, you can't beat them bloomin' twins," said Harvey Reel,
chuckling admiringly. And no one disagreed.

CHAPTER VII

MAKING MATCHES

Aunt Grace sat in a low rocker with a bit of embroidery in her hands.
And Fairy sat at the table, a formidable array of books before her. Aunt
Grace was gazing idly at her sewing basket, a soft smile on her lips.
And Fairy was staring thoughtfully into the twilight, a soft glow in her
eyes. Aunt Grace was thinking of the jolly parsonage family, and how
pleasant it was to live with them. And Fairy was thinking--ah, Fairy was
twenty, and twenty-year-olds always stare into the twilight, with dreamy
far-seeing eyes.

In upon this peaceful scene burst the twins, flushed, tempestuous, in
spite of their seventeen years. Their hurry to speak had rendered them
incapable of speech, so they stood in the doo