The obliging Lark boosted her sister up, and Carol nimbly scrambled into place, riding astride.

"I've got to ride this way," she said; "cows have such funny backs I couldn't keep on any other way. If I see any one coming, I'll slide for it."

For a while all went well. Lark led Blinkie carefully, gazing about anxiously to see that no one approached. Carol gained confidence as they proceeded, and chatted with her sister nonchalantly, waving her hands about to show her perfect balance and lack of fear. So they advanced to within two blocks of the parsonage.

"It's very nice," said Carol, "very nice indeed,--but her backbone is rather--well, rather penetrating. I think I need a saddle."

By this time, Blinkie concluded that she was being imposed upon. She shook her head violently, and twitched the rope from Lark's hand,--for Lark now shared her sister's confidence, and held it loosely. With a little cry she tried to catch the end of it, but Blinkie was too quick for her. She gave a scornful toss of her dainty head, and struck out madly for home. With great presence of mind, Carol fell flat upon the cow's neck, and hung on for dear life, while Lark, in terror, started out in pursuit.

"Help! Help!" she cried loudly. "Papa! Papa! Papa!"

In this way, they turned in at the parsonage gate, which happily stood open,--otherwise Blinkie would undoubtedly have gone through, or over.

As luck would have it, Mr. Starr was standing at the door with two men who had been calling on him, and hearing Lark's frantic cries, they rushed to meet the wild procession, and had the unique experience of seeing a parsonage girl riding flat on her stomach on the neck of a galloping Jersey, with another parsonage girl in mad pursuit.

Blinkie stopped beside the barn, and turned her head about inquiringly.

Carol slid to the ground, and buried her face in her hands at sight of the two men with her father. Then with never a word, she lit out for the house at top speed. Seeing that she was not hurt, and that no harm had been done, the three men sat down on the ground and burst into hearty laughter.

Lark came upon them as they sat thus, and Lark was angry. She stamped her foot with a violence that must have hurt her.

"I don't see anything to laugh at," she cried pa.s.sionately, "it was awful, it was just awful! Carrie might have been killed! It--it----"

"Tell us all about it, Lark," gasped her father. And Lark did so, smiling a little herself, now that her fears were relieved. "Poor Carol," she said, "she'll never live down the humiliation. I must go and console her."

And a little later, the twins were weeping on each other's shoulders.

"I wouldn't have cared," sobbed Carol, "if it had been anybody else in the world! But--the presiding elder,--and--the president of the Presbyterian College! And I know the Presbyterians look down on us Methodists anyhow, though they wouldn't admit it! And riding a cow! Oh, Larkie, if you love me, go down-stairs and get me the carbolic acid, so I can die and be out of disgrace."

This, however, Lark stoutly refused to do, and in a little while Carol felt much better. But she talked it over with Prudence very seriously.

"I hope you understand, Prudence, that I shall never have anything more to do with Blinkie! She can die of starvation for all I care. I'll never take her to and from the pasture again. I couldn't do it! Such rank ingrat.i.tude as that cow displayed was never equaled, I am certain."

"I suppose you'll quit using milk and cream, too," suggested Prudence.

"Oh, well," said Carol more tolerantly, "I don't want to be too hard on Blinkie, for after all it was partly my own fault. So I won't go that far. But I must draw the line somewhere! Hereafter, Blinkie and I meet as strangers!"

CHAPTER III

THE LADIES' AID

"It's perfectly disgusting, I admit, father," said Prudence sweetly, "but you know yourself that it very seldom happens. And I am sure the kitchen is perfectly clean, and the soup is very nice indeed,--if it is canned soup! Twins, this is four slices of bread apiece for you! You see, father, I really feel that this is a crisis in the life of the parsonage----"

"How long does a parsonage usually live?" demanded Carol.

"It wouldn't live long if the ministers had many twins," said Fairy quickly.

"Ouch!" grinned Connie, plagiarizing, for that expressive word belonged exclusively to the twins, and it was double impertinence to apply it to one of its very possessors.

"And you understand, don't you, father, that if everything does not go just exactly right, I shall feel I am disgraced for life? I know the Ladies disapprove of me, and look on me with suspicion. I know they think it wicked and ridiculous to leave the raising of four bright spirits in the unworthy hands of a girl like me. I know they will all sniff and smile and--Of course, twins, they have a perfect right to feel, and act, so. I am not complaining. But I want to show them for once in their lives that the parsonage runs smoothly and sweetly. If you would just stay at home with us, father, it would be a big help.

You are such a tower of strength."

"But unfortunately I can not. People do not get married every day in the week, and when they are all ready for it they do not allow even Ladies' Aids to stand in their way. It is a long drive, ten miles at least, and I must start at once. And it will likely be very late when I get back. But if you are all good, and help Prudence, and uphold the reputation of the parsonage, I will divide the wedding fee with you,--share and share alike." This was met with such enthusiasm that he added hastily, "But wait! It may be only a dollar!"

Then kissing the various members of the parsonage family, he went out the back door, barnward.

"Now," said Prudence briskly, "I want to make a bargain with you, girls. If you'll stay clear away from the Ladies, and be very good and orderly, I'll give you all the lemonade and cake you can drink afterward."

"Oh, Prudence, I'm sure I can't drink much cake," cried Carol tragically, "I just can't imagine myself doing it!"

"I mean, eat the cake, of course," said Prudence, blushing.

"And let us make taffy after supper?" wheedled Carol.

Prudence hesitated, and the three young faces hardened. Then Prudence relented and hastily agreed. "You won't need to appear at all, you know. You can just stay outdoors and play as though you were model children."

"Yes," said Carol tartly, "the kind the members used to have,--which are all grown up, now! And all moved out of Mount Mark, too!"

"Carol! That sounds malicious, and malice isn't tolerated here for a minute. Now,--oh, Fairy, did you remember to dust the back of the dresser in our bedroom?"

"Mercy! What in the world do you want the back of the dresser dusted for? Do you expect the Ladies to look right through it?"

"No, but some one might drop something behind it, and it would have to be pulled out and they would all see it. This house has got to be absolutely spotless for once,--I am sure it will be the first time."

"And the last, I hope," added Carol sepulchrally.

"We have an hour and a half yet," continued Prudence. "That will give us plenty of time for the last touches. Twins and Connie, you'd better go right out in the field and play. I'll call you a little before two, and then you must go quietly upstairs, and dress--just wear your plain little ginghams, the clean ones of course! Then if they do catch a glimpse of you, you will be presentable.--Yes, you can take some bread and sugar, but hurry."

"You may take," said Fairy.

"Yes, of course, may take is what I mean.--Now hurry."

Then Prudence and Fairy set to work again in good earnest. The house was already well cleaned. The sandwiches were made. But there were the last "rites," and every detail must be religiously attended to.

It must be remembered that the three main down-stairs rooms of the parsonage were connected by double doors,--double doors, you understand, not portieres! The front room, seldom used by the parsonage family, opened on the right of the narrow hallway. Beyond it was the living-room, which it must be confessed the parsonage girls only called "living-room" when they were on their Sunday behavior,--ordinarily it was the sitting-room, and a cheery, homey, attractive place it was, with a great bay window looking out upon the stately mansion of the Averys. To the left of the living-room was the dining-room. The double doors between them were always open. The other pair was closed, except on occasions of importance.

Now, this really was a crisis in the life of the parsonage family,--if not of the parsonage itself. The girls had met, separately, every member of the Ladies' Aid. But this was their first combined movement upon the parsonage, and Prudence and Fairy realized that much depended on the success of the day. As girls, the whole Methodist church p.r.o.nounced the young Starrs charming. But as parsonage people,--well, they were obliged to reserve judgment. And as for Prudence having entire charge of the household, it must be acknowledged that every individual Lady looked forward to this meeting with eagerness,--they wanted to "size up" the situation. They were coming to see for themselves! Yes, it was undoubtedly a crisis.

"There'll be a crowd, of course," said Fairy. "We'll just leave the doors between the front rooms open."

"Yes, but we'll close the dining-room doors. Then we'll have the refreshments all out on the table, and when we are ready we'll just fling back the doors carelessly and--there you are!"

So the table was prettily decorated with flowers, and great plates of sandwiches and cake were placed upon it. In the center was an enormous punch-bowl, borrowed from the Averys, full of lemonade. Gla.s.ses were properly arranged on the trays, and piles of nicely home-laundered napkins were scattered here and there. The girls felt that the dining-room was a credit to them, and to the Methodist Church entire.

From every nook and corner of the house they hunted out chairs and stools, antic.i.p.ating a real run upon the parsonage. Nor were they disappointed. The twins and Connie were not even arrayed in their plain little ginghams, clean, before the first arrivals were ushered up into the front bedroom, ordinarily occupied by Prudence and Fairy.

"There's Mrs. Adams, and Mrs. Prentiss, and Mrs.----," began Connie, listening intently to the voices in the next room.