"Yes, father, I will--I know you'll find the answers." After the door had closed behind them, Mr. Starr sat for a long time staring straight before him into space. "The Connie problem," he said at last. And then, "I'll have to be better pals with her. Connie's going to be pretty fine, I believe." CHAPTER XIV BOOSTING CONNIE Connie was past fifteen when she announced gravely one day, "I've changed my mind. I'm going to be an author." "An author," scoffed Carol. "You! I thought you were going to get married and have eleven children." Even with the dignity of nineteen years, the nimble wits of Carol and Lark still struggled with the irreproachable gravity of Connie. "I was," was the cool retort. "I thought you were going to be a Red Cross nurse and go to war." Carol blushed a little. "I was," she assented, "but there isn't any war." "Well," even in triumph, Connie was imperturbable, "there isn't any father for my eleven children either." The twins had to admit that this was an obstacle, and they yielded gracefully. "But an author, Connie," said Lark. "It's very hard. I gave it up long ago." "I know you did. But I don't give up very easily." "You gave up your eleven children." "Oh, I've plenty of time for them yet, when I find a father for them. Yes, I'm going to be an author." "Can you write?" "Of course I can write." "Well, you have conceit enough to be anything," said Carol frankly. "Maybe you'll make it go, after all. I should like to have an author in the family and since Lark's lost interest, I suppose it will have to be you. I couldn't think of risking my complexion at such a precarious livelihood. But if you get stuck, I'll be glad to help you out a little. I really have an imagination myself, though perhaps you wouldn't think it." "What makes you think you can write, Con?" inquired Lark, with genuine interest. "I have already done it." "Was it any good?" "It was fine." Carol and Lark smiled at each other. "Yes," said Carol, "she has the long-haired instinct. I see it now. They always say it is fine. Was it a masterpiece, Connie?" And when Connie hesitated, she urged, "Come on, confess it. Then we shall be convinced that you have found your field. They are always masterpieces. Was yours?" "Well, considering my youth and inexperience, it was," Connie admitted, her eyes sparkling appreciatively. Carol's wit was no longer lost upon her, at any rate. "Bring it out. Let's see it. I've never met a masterpiece yet,--except a dead one," said Lark. "No--no," Connie backed up quickly. "You can't see it, and--don't ask any more about it. Has father gone out?" The twins stared at her again. "What's the matter with you?" "Nothing, but it's my story and you can't see it. That settles it. Was there any mail to-day?" Afterward the twins talked it over together. "What made her back down like that?" Carol wondered. "Just when we had her going."