"All very well, but maybe you think a cold-sermon is effective."
Carol stood up and lifted her hand impressively. "My dear brothers
and sisters,--hem-ah-hem-h-hh-em,--let us unite in reading
the--ah-huh-huh-huh. Let us sing--h-h-h-h-hem--well, let us unite in
prayer then--ah-chooo! ah-choooooo!"

"Where did you put those cough-drops?" he demanded. "But even at that
it is better than you would do. 'Just as soon as I powder my face we
will unite in singing hymn one hundred thirty-six. Oh, excuse me a
minute,--I believe I feel a cold-sore coming,--I have a mirror right
here, and it won't take a minute. Now, I am ready. Let us arise and
sing,--but since I can not sing I will just polish my nails while the
rest of you do it. Ready, go!'"

Carol laughed at the picture, but marched off for the bottle of cough
medicine and the powder box, and while he carefully measured out a
teaspoonful of the one for himself, she applied the other with gay
devotion.

"But I truly think you should not go to Happy Hollow to-night," she
said. "Mr. Baldwin will go with me, bless his faithful old pillary
heart. And you ought to stay in. It is very stormy, and that long
walk--"

"Oh, nonsense, a little cough like this! You are dead tired yourself;
you stay at home to-night, and Baldwin and I will go. You really ought
to, Carol, you are on the jump every minute. Won't you?"

"Most certainly not. I haven't a cold, have I? Maybe you want to keep
me away so you can flirt with some of the Hollowers while I am out of