interfere with her grasp on the chair-arms,--and then she realized that
the wisest thing would be to discuss it publicly. Anything would be
better than leaving it unexplained, for the Ladies to comment upon
privately.

So up rose Prudence, conscientiously pulling after her the thin cushion
which had concealed the chair's shortcoming. "Look, Fairy!" she cried.
"Did you take the bottom out of this chair?--It must have been horribly
uncomfortable for those who have sat there!--However did it happen?"

Fairy was frankly amazed, and a little inclined to be amused.

"Ask the twins," she said tersely, "I know nothing about it."

At that moment, the luckless Carol went running through the hall.
Prudence knew it was she, without seeing, because she had a peculiar
skipping run that was quite characteristic and unmistakable.

"Carol!" she called.

And Carol paused.

"Carol!" more imperatively.

Then Carol slowly opened the door,--she was a parsonage girl and rose
to the occasion. She smiled winsomely,--Carol was nearly always
winsome.

"How do you do?" she said brightly. "Isn't it a lovely day? Did you
call me, Prudence?"