For some time the twins ignored the atmosphere of solemn mystery which pervaded their once so cheerful home. But when it finally reached the limit of their endurance they marched in upon their aunt and Fairy with an admirable admixture of dignity and indignation in their attitude. "Who's haunted?" inquired Carol abruptly. "Where's the criminal?" demanded Lark. "Yes, little twins, talk English and maybe you'll learn something." And for the moment the anxious light in Fairy's eyes gave way to a twinkle. Sad indeed was the day when Fairy could not laugh at the twins. "Then, in common vernacular, though it is really beneath us, what's up?" Fairy turned innocently inquiring eyes toward the ceiling. "What indeed?" "Oh, don't try to be dramatic, Fairy," counseled Lark. "You're too fat for a star-Starr." The twins beamed at each other approvingly at this, and Fairy smiled. But Carol returned promptly to the charge. "Are Jerry and Prudence having domestic difficulties? There's something going on, and we want to know. Father looks like a fallen Samson, and--" "A fallen Samson, Carol! Mercy! Where did you get it?" "Yes, kind of sheepish, and ashamed, and yet hopeful of returning strength. That's art, a simile like that is.--Prudence writes every day, and you hide the letters. And Aunt Grace sneaks around like a convict with her hand under her apron. And you look as heavy-laden as if you were carrying Connie's conscience around with you." Aunt Grace looked at Fairy, Fairy looked at Aunt Grace. Aunt Grace raised her eyebrows. Fairy hesitated, nodded, smiled. Slowly then Aunt Grace drew one hand from beneath her apron and showed to the eagerly watching twins, a tiny, hand embroidered dress. They stared at it, fascinated, half frightened, and then looked into the serious faces of their aunt and sister. "I--I don't believe it," whispered Carol. "She's not old enough." Aunt Grace smiled. "She's older than mother was," said Fairy. Lark took the little dress and examined it critically. "The neck's too small," she announced decidedly. "Nothing could wear that." "We're using this for a pattern," said Fairy, lifting a yellowed, much worn garment from the sewing basket. "I wore this, and so did you and so did Connie,--my lovely child." Carol rubbed her hand about her throat in a puzzled way. "I can't seem to realize that we ever grew out of that," she said slowly. "Is Prudence all right?" "Yes, just fine." The twins looked at each other bashfully. Then, "I'll bet there'll be no living with Jerry after this," said Lark. "Oh, papa," lisped Carol, in a high-pitched voice supposed to represent the tone of a little child. They both giggled, and blinked hard to crowd back the tears that wouldn't stay choked down. Prudence! And that! "And see here, twins, Prudence has a crazy notion that she wants to come home for it. She says she'll be scared in a hospital, and Jerry's willing to come here with her. What do you think about it?"