uch anyhow. I'll help Lark
with the potatoes. No, do not take the paper, Carol,--I said you must
not read."

Then Lark and Prudence, working together, and talking much, prepared
the supper for the family. When they gathered about the table,
Prudence looked critically at Connie.

"Are you beginning to feel sick? Do you feel like sneezing, or any
thing?--Connie's awfully naughty, papa. Her feet were just oozing
water, and she sat there in her wet shoes and stockings, just like a
stupid child.--Aren't you going to eat any supper, Carol? Are you
sick? What is the matter? Does your head still ache?"

"Oh, it doesn't ache exactly, but I do not feel hungry. No, I am not
sick, Prudence, so don't stew about it. I'm just not hungry. The meat
is too greasy, and the potatoes are lumpy. I think I'll take a
cinnamon roll." But she only picked it to pieces idly. Prudence
watched her with the intense suspicious gaze of a frightened mother
bird.

"There are some canned oysters out there, Carol. If I make you some
soup, will you eat it?"

This was a great concession, for the canned oysters were kept in
anticipation of unexpected company. But Carol shook her head
impatiently. "I am not hungry at all," she said.

"I'll open some pineapple, or those beautiful pickled peaches Mrs.
Adams gave us, or--or anything, if you'll just eat something, Carrie."

Still Carol shook her head. "I said I wasn't hungry, Prudence." But
her face was growing very red, and her eyes were strangely bright. She
moved her hands with unnatural restless motions, and frequently lifted
her shoulders in a peculiar manner.

"Do your shoulders hurt, Carol?" asked her father, who was also
watching her anxiously.

"Oh, it feels kind of--well--tight, I guess, in my chest. But it
doesn't hurt. It hurts a little when I breathe deep."

"Is your throat still sore, Carol?" inquired Lark. "Don't you remember
saying you couldn't swallow when we were coming home from school?"

"It isn't sore now," said Carol. And as though intolerant of further
questioning, she left the dining-room quickly.

"Shall I put flannel on her chest and throat, father?" asked Prudence
nervously.

"Yes, and if she gets worse we will call the doctor. It's probably
just a cold, but we must----"

"It isn't diphtheria, papa, you know that," cried Prudence passionately.

For there were four reported cases of that dread disease in Mount Mark.

But the pain in Carol's ch