The kitchen door slammed sharply behind Prudence as she stepped into the kitchen, and Connie’s piercing shriek would surely have rivaled that of Lark’s unfortunate heroine.  Even Carol started nervously, and let the plate she had been solemnly wiping for nine minutes, fall to the floor.  Lark gasped, and then began sheepishly washing dishes as though her life depended on it.  The water was cold, and little masses of grease clung to the edges of the pan and floated about on the surface of the water.

“Get fresh hot water, Lark, and finish the dishes.  Connie, go right up-stairs to bed.  You twins can come in to me as soon as you finish.”

But Connie was afraid to go to bed alone, and Prudence was obliged to accompany her.  So it was in their own room that the twins finally faced an indignant Prudence.

“Carol, you may go right straight to bed.  And Lark—­I do not know what in the world to do with you.  Why don’t you mind me, and do as I tell you?  How many times have I told you not to tell weird stories like that?  Can’t you tell nice, interesting, mild stories?”

“Prudence, as sure as you live, I can’t!  I start them just as mild and proper as can be, but before I get half-way through, a murder, or death, or mystery crops in, and I can’t help it.”

“But you must help it, Lark.  Or I shall forbid your telling stories of any kind.  They are so silly, those wild things, and they make you all nervous, and excitable, and—­ Now, think, Larkie, and tell me how I shall punish you.”

Lark applied all the resources of her wonderful brain to this task, and presently suggested reluctantly:  “Well, you might keep me home from the ice-cream social to-morrow night.”  But her face was wistful.

“No,” said Prudence decidedly, to Lark’s intense relief.  “I can’t do that.  You’ve been looking forward to it so long, and your class is to help with the serving.  No, not that, Larkie.  That would be too mean.  Think of something else.”

“Well,—­you might make me wash and dry the dishes all alone—­for a week, Prudence, and that will be a bad punishment, too, for I just despise washing dishes by myself.  Telling stories makes it so much—­livelier.”

“All right, then,” said Prudence, relieved in turn, “that is what I will do.  And Carol and Connie must not even stay in the kitchen with you.”

“I believe I’ll go to bed now, too,” said Lark, with a thoughtful glance at her two sisters, already curled up snugly and waiting for the conclusion of the administering of justice.  “If you don’t mind, Prudence.”

Prudence smiled a bit ruefully.  “Oh, I suppose you might as well, if you like.  But remember this, Lark:  No more deaths, and murders, and mysteries, and highway robberies.”

“All right, Prudence,” said Lark with determination.  And as Prudence walked slowly down-stairs she heard Lark starting in on her next story: