"No. I can't go to sleep somehow."

"Neither can I. Do you think we'd better tell Prudence all about it?"

Carol squirmed in the bed. "I--suppose we had," she said reluctantly.

"But--it'll be lots worse for us than for Connie," Lark added. "We're
so much older, and we made her do it."

"Yes, and we ate all the apples," mourned Carol.

"Maybe we'd better just let it go," suggested Lark.

"And we'll make it up to Connie afterwards," said Carol.

"Now, you be careful and not give it away, Carol."

"You see that you don't."

But it was a sorry night for the twins. The next morning they set off
to school, with no chance for anything but a brief good morning with
Connie,--given in the presence of Prudence. Half-way down the
parsonage walk, Carol said:

"Oh, wait a minute, Lark. I left my note-book on the table." And Lark
walked slowly while Carol went rushing back. She found Prudence in the
kitchen, and whispered:

"Here--here's a note, Prudence. Don't read it until after I've gone to
school,--at ten o'clock you may read it. Will you promise?"