baiyat_. It's--"

"_The Rubaiyat!_" Carol frowned. Lark looked up from the skeletons with
sudden interest. "_The Rubaiyat?_ By Khayyam? Isn't that the old fellow
who didn't believe in God, and Heaven, and such things--you know what I
mean,--the man who didn't believe anything, and wrote about it? Let me
see it. I've never read it myself, but I've heard about it." Carol
turned the pages with critical disapproving eyes. "Hum, yes, I know
about this." She faced Connie sternly. "I suppose you think, Connie,
that since we're out of a parsonage we can do anything we like. Haven't
we any standards? Haven't we any ideals? Are we--are we--well, anyhow,
what business has a minister's daughter reading trash like this?"

"I don't believe it, you know," Connie said coolly. "I'm only reading
it. How can I know whether it's trash or not, unless I read it? I--"

"Ministers' daughters are supposed to keep their fingers clear of the
burning ends of matches," said Carol neatly. "We can't handle them
without getting scorched, or blackened, at least. We have to steer clear
of things folks aren't sure about. Prudence says so."

"Prudence," said Connie gravely, "is a dear sweet thing, but she's
awfully old-fashioned, Carol; you know that."

Carol and Lark were speechless. They would as soon have dreamed of
questioning the catechism as Prudence's perfection.

"She's narrow. She's a darling, of course, but she isn't up-to-date. I
want to know what folks are talking about. I don't believe this poem.
I'm a Christian. But I want to know what other folks think about me and
what I believe. That's all. Prudence is fine, but I know a good deal
more about some things than Prudence will know when she's a thousand
years old."

The twins still sat silent.

"Of course, some folks wouldn't approve of parsonage girls reading
things like this. But I approve of it. I want to know why I disagree
with this poetry, and I can't until I know where we disagree. It's
beautiful, Carol, really. It's kind of sad. It makes me want to cry.
It's--"

"I've a big notion to tell papa on you," said Carol soberly and sadly.

Connie rose at once.

"What's the matter?"

"I'm going to tell papa myself."

Carol moved uneasily in her chair. "Oh, let it go this time. I--I just
mentioned it to relieve my feelings. I won't tell him yet. I'll talk it
over with you again. I'll have to think it over first."

"I think I'd rather tell him," insisted Connie.

Carol looked