“She probably cried herself to sleep somewhere.  We’d better let her alone.  She’ll feel much better asleep and hungry, than awake and sorry for Prue.”

So the twins went back to the haymow.  When it grew dark, they slipped into the kitchen, and huddled together on, the woodbox beside the stove.  And down to them presently came Fairy, smiling, her eyes tear-brightened.

“She is better!” cried Carol, springing to her feet.

“Yes,” said Fairy, dropping on her knees and burying her face in Lark’s lap, as she still sat on the woodbox.  “She’s better.  She is better.”  Lark patted the heaving shoulders in a motherly way, and when Fairy lifted her face again it was all serene, though her lashes were wet.

“She is conscious,” said Fairy, still on her knees, but with her head thrown back, and smiling.  “She regained consciousness a little while ago.  There is nothing really serious the matter.  It was a hard knock, but it missed the temple.  When she became conscious, she looked up at father and smiled.  Father looked perfectly awful, twins, so pale, and his lips were trembling.  And Prudence said, ’Now, father, on your word of honor, did you knock me down with that ball on purpose?’ She spoke very low, and weak, but—­just like Prudence!  Father couldn’t say a word, he just nodded, and gulped.  She has a little fever, and the doctors say we may need to work with her part of the night.  Father said to ask if you would go to bed now, so you can get up early in the morning and help us.  I am to stay with Prudence to-night, but you may have to take turns in the morning.  And you’ll have to get breakfast, too.  So father thinks you would better go to bed.  Will you do that, twinnies?”

“Will we!” And Carol added, “Will you kiss Prudence good night for us, and tell her we kept praying all the time?  Prudence is such a great hand for praying, you know.”

Fairy promised, and the twins crept up-stairs.  It was dark in their room.

“We’ll undress in the dark so as not to awake poor little Connie,” whispered Lark.  “It’s nice she can sleep like that, isn’t it?”

And the twins went to bed, and fell asleep after a while, never doubting that Connie, in her corner of the room, was already safe and happy in the oblivion of slumber.

But poor Connie!  She had not wakened when Fairy closed the dungeon door.  It was long afterward when she sat up and began rubbing her eyes.  She did not know where she was.  Then she remembered!  She wondered if Prudence—­ She scrambled to her feet, and trotted over to the dungeon door.  It was locked, she could not turn the knob.  At first, she thought of screaming and pounding on the door.

“But that will arouse Prudence, and frighten her, and maybe kill her,” she thought wretchedly.  “I’ll just keep still until some one passes.”

But no one passed for a long time, and Connie stretched her aching little body and sobbed, worrying about Prudence, fearful on her own account.  She had no idea of the time.  She supposed it was still early.  And the parsonage was deathly quiet.  Maybe Prudence had died!  Connie writhed in agony on the hard floor, and sobbed bitterly.  Still she would not risk pounding on the dungeon door.