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Updated: May 14, 2025
The doctor was standing in the center of the room. Fairy was hovering anxiously near Lark, rigid at the window. "Larkie," whispered Prudence, and with a bitter cry the young girl leaped into her sister's arms. Prudence caressed and soothed her tenderly. "Poor little Larkie," she murmured, "poor little twinnie! But Carol is resting pretty well now, Lark. She's coming through all right.
From the parsonage windows came the sound of scampering feet and banging doors. Once there was the unmistakable clatter of a chair overturned. With it all, there was a constant chorus of "Oh, look!" "Oh! Oh!" "Oh, how sweet!" "Oh, papa!" "Oh, Prudence!" "Look, Larkie, look at this!" Then the thud of many feet speeding down the stairs, and the slam of a door, and the slam of a gate.
Carol came to the rescue. "It's a very nice book. It's a love-story, and perfectly thrilling. Larkie does the writing, but I criticize and offer suggestions." "That's kind of you." A pause. "I'm going to dedicate it to Carol, To my beloved sister, to whose kindness and sympathy, I owe all that I am, or something like that," Lark explained hopefully. "How proud Carol will be!" A long pause.
I prefer stout old Rembrandt myself, and Larkie adores that dandified Raphael," said the lively Cutter, slapping away at Homer's bald pate energetically, as she spoke. "Raphael is a dear, but Rubens is more to my taste now," returned Miss Larkins. "He was in the hall yesterday talking with Sir Joshua, who had his inevitable umbrella, like a true Englishman.
"It isn't diphtheria, papa, you know that," cried Prudence passionately. For there were four reported cases of that dread disease in Mount Mark. But the pain in Carol's chest did grow worse, and she became so feverish that she began talking in quick broken sentences. "It was too hot! Don't go away, Larkie! Her feet were wet, and it kept squshing out. I guess I'm kind of sick, Prue.
Her father drew a chair to the table and said, "Sit down and eat that soup at once, Larkie." Lark's face quivered, but she turned away. "I can't, father. You don't understand. I can't eat, I really can't. Carrie's my twin, and oh, father, don't you see how it is?" He stood for a moment, frowning at her thoughtfully. Then he left the room, signing for the doctor to follow.
When Carol read that letter she cried, and rubbed her face against her husband's shoulder, regardless of the dollar powder on his black coat. "A teeny bit for father," she explained, "for all his girls are gone. And a little bit for Fairy, but she has Gene. And quite a lot for Larkie, but she has Jim and Violet."
She was conscious several times to-day. The first time she just looked up at me and smiled and whispered, 'Hard luck, Prue. Then a little later she said, 'Tell Larkie I'm doing fine, and don't let her worry. Pretty soon she spoke again, 'You make Lark be sensible, Prue, or she'll be sick, too. Once again she started to say something about you, but she was too sick to finish.
We hope to make something very big and fine of Larkie." Prudence's eyes shone with motherly pride. She nodded, striving to make her voice natural and matter-of-fact as she answered, "Yes, she is bright." "She certainly is!
The little one can wait." An hour later, he came down-stairs again. "Is she sleeping?" he asked of Fairy in a low voice. "That is good. You have your work cut out for you, my girl. The little one here will be all right, but this twin is in nearly as bad shape as the one up-stairs." "Oh! Doctor! Larkie, too!" "Oh, she is not sick. But she is too intense. She is taking this too hard.
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