“Look here, Jerry, I want to know.  Why are you staying away?”

“Won’t Prudence tell you?”

“No.”

“Then I can not.  She made me promise not to tell you a word.  But it is not my fault, Mr. Starr.  I can tell you that.  It is nothing I have done or said.  She sent me away because she thinks it was right for her to do so, and—­you know Prudence!  It is wrong, I know.  I knew it all the time.  But I couldn’t make her see it.  And she made me promise not to tell.”

In the end Mr. Starr went back to the parsonage no wiser than he left, save that he now knew that Jerry was really not to blame, and that he held himself ready to return to her on a moment’s notice.

The Ladies of the Methodist church were puzzled and exasperated.  They went to the parsonage, determined to “find out what’s what.”  But when they sat with Prudence, and looked at the frail, pathetic little figure, with the mournful eyes,—–­they could only sigh with her and go their ways.

The twins continued to play in the great maple, even when the leaves were fallen, “It’s a dandy place, I tell you, Prudence,” cried Carol.  “Jerry didn’t have time to put up the rope before Connie pulled him down, but we’ve fixed it ourselves, and it is simply grand.  You can go up and swing any time you like,—­unless your joints are too stiff!  It’s a very serious matter getting up there,—–­for stiff joints, of course, I mean.  Lark and I get up easy enough.”

For a moment, Prudence sat silent with quivering lips.  Then she burst out with unusual passion, “Don’t you ever dare climb up in that tree again as long as you live, twins!  Mind what I say!”

Lark looked thoughtfully out of the window, and Carol swallowed hard.  It was she who said gently, “Why, of course, Prue,—­just as you say.”

For the first time, Prudence had dealt with them harshly and unfairly.  They knew it.  There was neither sense nor justice in her command.  But they did not argue the point.  They kept their eyes considerately away from her, and buried themselves in Julius Caesar,—­it must be remembered the twins are sophomores now.  Five minutes later Prudence spoke again, humbly.

“I beg you pardon, twins,—­that was a perfectly idiotic thing for me to say.  Of course, you may play in the maple whenever you like.  But be careful.  You couldn’t save yourselves in falling as—­as men can.”

“We won’t play there if you want us not to,” said Carol kindly.

“I do want you to play there,” she answered.  “It’s a very nice place, and great fun, I know.  I might try it myself if—­my joints weren’t so stiff!  Now, go on with your Latin.”

But Prudence did not pass under the maple for many weeks without clenching her hands, and shuddering.

The twins were not satisfied.  They marveled, and wondered, and pondered over the subject of Jerry’s disappearance.  Finally they felt it was more than human flesh could stand.  They would approach Prudence on the subject themselves.  But they bided their time.  They must wait until Fairy was safely out of the house.  Fairy these days had an infuriating way of saying, “That will do, twins.  You’d better go and play now.”  It enraged and distracted the twins almost to the point of committing crime.