I was," was the cool retort. "I thought you were going to be a Red
Cross nurse and go to war."

Carol blushed a little. "I was," she assented, "but there isn't any
war."

"Well," even in triumph, Connie was imperturbable, "there isn't any
father for my eleven children either."

The twins had to admit that this was an obstacle, and they yielded
gracefully.

"But an author, Connie," said Lark. "It's very hard. I gave it up long
ago."

"I know you did. But I don't give up very easily."

"You gave up your eleven children."

"Oh, I've plenty of time for them yet, when I find a father for them.
Yes, I'm going to be an author."

"Can you write?"

"Of course I can write."

"Well, you have conceit enough to be anything," said Carol frankly.
"Maybe you'll make it go, after all. I should like to have an author in
the family and since Lark's lost interest, I suppose it will have to be
you. I couldn't think of risking my complexion at such a precarious
livelihood. But if you get stuck, I'll be glad to help you out a little.
I really have an imagination myself, though perhaps you wouldn't think
it."

"What makes you think you can write, Con?" inquired Lark, with genuine
interest.

"I have already done it."

"Was it any good?"

"It was fine."

Carol and Lark smiled at each other.

"Yes," said Carol, "she has the long-haired instinct. I see it now. They
always say it is fine. Was it a masterpiece, Connie?" And when Connie
hesitated, she urged, "Come on, confess it. Then we shall be convinced
that you have found your field. They are always masterpieces. Was
yours?"

"Well, considering my youth and inexperience, it was," Connie admitted,
her eyes sparkling appreciatively. Carol's wit was no longer lost upon
her, at any rate.

"Bring it out. Let's see it. I've never met a masterpiece yet,--except a
dead one," said Lark.

"No--no," Connie backed up quickly. "You can't see it, and--don't ask
any more about it. Has father gone out?"

The twins stared at her again. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing, but it's my story and you can't see it. That settles it. Was
there any mail to-day?"

Afterward the twins talked it over together.

"What made her back down like that?" Carol wondered. "Just when we had
her going."

"Why, didn't you catch on to that? She has sent it off to a magazine,
of course, and she doesn't want us to know about it. I saw through it
right away."

Carol looked at her twin with new int