bled each other closely in build, being
of the same height and size. They were slender, yet gave a suggestion
of sturdiness. Carol's face was a delicately tinted oval, brightened
by clear and sparkling eyes of blue. She was really beautiful, bright,
attractive and vivacious. She made friends readily, and was always
considered the "most popular girl in our crowd"--whatever Carol's crowd
at the time might be. But she was not extremely clever, caring little
for study, and with no especial talent in any direction. Lark was as
nearly contrasting as any sister could be. Her face was pale, her eyes
were dark brown and full of shadows, and she was a brilliant and
earnest student. For each other the twins felt a passionate devotion
that was very beautiful, but ludicrous as well.
To them, the great rambling barn back of the parsonage was a most
delightful place. It had a big cow-shed on one side, and horse stalls
on the other, with a "heavenly" haymow over all, and with "chutes" for
the descent of hay,--and twins! In one corner was a high dark crib for
corn, with an open window looking down into the horse stalls adjoining.
When the crib was newly filled, the twins could clamber painfully up on
the corn, struggle backward through the narrow window, and holding to
the ledge of it with their hands, drop down into the nearest stall. To
be sure they were likely to fall,--more likely than not,--and their
hands were splinter-filled and their heads blue-bumped most of the
time. But splinters and bumps did not interfere with their pursuit of
pleasure.
Now the twins had a Secret Society,--of which they were the founders,
the officers and the membership body. Its name was Skull and
Crossbones. Why that name was chosen perhaps even the twins themselves
could not explain, but it sounded deep, dark and bloody,--and so was
the Society. Lark furnished the brain power for the organization but
her sister was an enthusiastic and energetic second. Carol's club name
was Lady Gwendolyn, and Lark's was Sir Alfred Angelcourt ordinarily,
although subject to frequent change. Sometimes she was Lord Beveling,
the villain of the plot, and chased poor Gwendolyn madly through
corn-crib, horse stalls and haymow. Again she was the dark-browed
Indian silently stalking his unconscious prey. Then she was a fierce
lion lying in wait for the approaching damsel. The old barn saw
stirring times after the coming of the new parsonage family.
"Ha
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