Lark's unfortunate heroine. Even Carol started nervously, and let the
plate she had been solemnly wiping for nine minutes, fall to the floor.
Lark gasped, and then began sheepishly washing dishes as though her life
depended on it. The water was cold, and little masses of grease clung to
the edges of the pan and floated about on the surface of the water.

"Get fresh hot water, Lark, and finish the dishes. Connie, go right
up-stairs to bed. You twins can come in to me as soon as you finish."

But Connie was afraid to go to bed alone, and Prudence was obliged to
accompany her. So it was in their own room that the twins finally faced
an indignant Prudence.

"Carol, you may go right straight to bed. And Lark--I do not know what
in the world to do with you. Why don't you mind me, and do as I tell
you? How many times have I told you not to tell weird stories like that?
Can't you tell nice, interesting, mild stories?"

"Prudence, as sure as you live, I can't! I start them just as mild and
proper as can be, but before I get half-way through, a murder, or death,
or mystery crops in, and I can't help it."

"But you must help it, Lark. Or I shall forbid your telling stories of
any kind. They are so silly, those wild things, and they make you all
nervous, and excitable, and-- Now, think, Larkie, and tell me how I
shall punish you."

Lark applied all the resources of her wonderful brain to this task, and
presently suggested reluctantly: "Well, you might keep me home from the
ice-cream social to-morrow night." But her face was wistful.