"A gift from Heaven!" muttered Lark, with clenched teeth. "Well, you got
us that time."

"Come on, Lark, we must put them sacredly away--Silk stockings, you
know, are mighty scarce in a parsonage,--"

"Yes, ha, ha, ha," and the crushed and broken twins left the room, with
dignity in spite of the blow.

The family did not enjoy the joke on the twins.

Mr. Starr looked at the others with all a man's confused incomprehension
of a woman's notions! He spread out his hands--an orthodox, ministerial
gesture!

"Now, will some one kindly tell me what there is in silk stockings,
to--" He shook his head helplessly. "Silk stockings! A gift from
Heaven!" He smiled, unmerrily. "The poor little kids!" Then he left the
room.

Aunt Grace openly wiped her eyes, smiling at herself as she did so.

Fairy opened and closed her lips several times. Then she spoke. "Say,
Prue, knock me down and sit on me, will you? Whatever made me think of
such a stupid trick as that?"

"Why, bless their little hearts," whispered Prudence, sniffing. "Didn't
they look sorry? But they were so determined to be game."

"Prudence, give me my eight cents," demanded Connie. "I want it right
away."

"What do you want it for?"

"I'm going down to Morrow's and get some candy. I never saw a meaner
trick in my life! I'm surprised at papa. The twins only play jokes for
fun." And Connie stalked grimly out of the parsonage and off toward
town.

A more abashed and downcast pair of twins probably never lived. They sat
thoughtfully in their room, "A. Phoole's Silk Thread Hose" carefully
hidden from their hurt eyes.

"It was a good joke," Lark said, now and then.

"Yes, very," assented Carol. "But silk stockings, Larkie!"

And Lark squirmed wretchedly. "A gift from Heaven," she mourned. "How
they must be laughing!"

But they did not laugh.

Connie came back and shared her candy. They thanked her courteously and
invited her to sit down. Then they all ate candy and grieved together
silently. They did not speak of the morning's disaster, but the twins
understood and appreciated the tender sympathy of her attitude, and
although they said nothing, they looked at her very kindly and Connie
was well content.

The morning passed drearily. The twins had lost all relish for their
well-planned tricks, and the others, down-stairs, found the usually wild
and hilarious day almost unbearably poky. Prudence's voice was gentle as
she called them down to dinner, and the