"I must stay here until I see her eat it," said the doctor. "If she
won't do it, she must be kept under morphine for a few days. But it's
better not. Try Prudence, by all means."

So Prudence, white-faced, eyes black-circled, came down from the room
where she had served her sister many weary hours. The doctor was
standing in the center of the room. Fairy was hovering anxiously near
Lark, rigid at the window.

"Larkie," whispered Prudence, and with a bitter cry the young girl
leaped into her sister's arms.

Prudence caressed and soothed her tenderly. "Poor little Larkie," she
murmured, "poor little twinnie!--But Carol is resting pretty well now,
Lark. She's coming through all right. She was conscious several times
to-day. The first time she just looked up at me and smiled and
whispered, 'Hard luck, Prue.' Then a little later she said, 'Tell
Larkie I'm doing fine, and don't let her worry.' Pretty soon she spoke
again, 'You make Lark be sensible, Prue, or she'll be sick, too.' Once
again she started to say something about you, but she was too sick to
finish. 'Larkie is such a--,' but that was as far as she could go.
She was thinking of you all the time, Lark. She is so afraid you'll
worry and make yourself sick, too. She would be heartbroken if she was
able to see you, and you were too sick to come to her. You must keep
up your strength for Carol's sake. If she is conscious to-morrow,
we're going to bring you up a while to see her. She can hardly stand
being away from you, I know. But you must get out-of-doors, and bring
some color to your cheeks, first. It would make her miserable to see
you like this."