Lark argued and pleaded, but Carol was firm.  “I must try it,” she insisted, “and if it doesn’t go well I can slide off.  You can lead her, Lark.”

The obliging Lark boosted her sister up, and Carol nimbly scrambled into place, riding astride.

“I’ve got to ride this way,” she said; “cows have such funny backs I couldn’t keep on any other way.  If I see any one coming, I’ll slide for it.”

For a while all went well.  Lark led Blinkie carefully, gazing about anxiously to see that no one approached.  Carol gained confidence as they proceeded, and chatted with her sister nonchalantly, waving her hands about to show her perfect balance and lack of fear.  So they advanced to within two blocks of the parsonage.

“It’s very nice,” said Carol, “very nice indeed,—­but her backbone is rather—­well, rather penetrating.  I think I need a saddle.”

By this time, Blinkie concluded that she was being imposed upon.  She shook her head violently, and twitched the rope from Lark’s hand,—­for Lark now shared her sister’s confidence, and held it loosely.  With a little cry she tried to catch the end of it, but Blinkie was too quick for her.  She gave a scornful toss of her dainty head, and struck out madly for home.  With great presence of mind, Carol fell flat upon the cow’s neck, and hung on for dear life, while Lark, in terror, started out in pursuit.

“Help!  Help!” she cried loudly.  “Papa!  Papa!  Papa!”

In this way, they turned in at the parsonage gate, which happily stood open,—­otherwise Blinkie would undoubtedly have gone through, or over.  As luck would have it, Mr. Starr was standing at the door with two men who had been calling on him, and hearing Lark’s frantic cries, they rushed to meet the wild procession, and had the unique experience of seeing a parsonage girl riding flat on her stomach on the neck of a galloping Jersey, with another parsonage girl in mad pursuit.

Blinkie stopped beside the barn, and turned her head about inquiringly.  Carol slid to the ground, and buried her face in her hands at sight of the two men with her father.  Then with never a word, she lit out for the house at top speed.  Seeing that she was not hurt, and that no harm had been done, the three men sat down on the ground and burst into hearty laughter.

Lark came upon them as they sat thus, and Lark was angry.  She stamped her foot with a violence that must have hurt her.

“I don’t see anything to laugh at,” she cried passionately, “it was awful, it was just awful!  Carrie might have been killed!  It—­it——­”

“Tell us all about it, Lark,” gasped her father.  And Lark did so, smiling a little herself, now that her fears were relieved.  “Poor Carol,” she said, “she’ll never live down the humiliation.  I must go and console her.”

And a little later, the twins were weeping on each other’s shoulders.

“I wouldn’t have cared,” sobbed Carol, “if it had been anybody else in the world!  But—­the presiding elder,—­and—­the president of the Presbyterian College!  And I know the Presbyterians look down on us Methodists anyhow, though they wouldn’t admit it!  And riding a cow!  Oh, Larkie, if you love me, go down-stairs and get me the carbolic acid, so I can die and be out of disgrace.”