“Oh, Prudence, I’m sure I can’t drink much cake,” cried Carol tragically, “I just can’t imagine myself doing it!”

“I mean, eat the cake, of course,” said Prudence, blushing.

“And let us make taffy after supper?” wheedled Carol.

Prudence hesitated, and the three young faces hardened.  Then Prudence relented and hastily agreed.  “You won’t need to appear at all, you know.  You can just stay outdoors and play as though you were model children.”

“Yes,” said Carol tartly, “the kind the members used to have,—­which are all grown up, now!  And all moved out of Mount Mark, too!”

“Carol!  That sounds malicious, and malice isn’t tolerated here for a minute.  Now,—­oh, Fairy, did you remember to dust the back of the dresser in our bedroom?”

“Mercy!  What in the world do you want the back of the dresser dusted for?  Do you expect the Ladies to look right through it?”

“No, but some one might drop something behind it, and it would have to be pulled out and they would all see it.  This house has got to be absolutely spotless for once,—­I am sure it will be the first time.”

“And the last, I hope,” added Carol sepulchrally.

“We have an hour and a half yet,” continued Prudence.  “That will give us plenty of time for the last touches.  Twins and Connie, you’d better go right out in the field and play.  I’ll call you a little before two, and then you must go quietly upstairs, and dress—­just wear your plain little ginghams, the clean ones of course!  Then if they do catch a glimpse of you, you will be presentable.—­Yes, you can take some bread and sugar, but hurry.”

“You may take,” said Fairy.

“Yes, of course, may take is what I mean.—­Now hurry.”

Then Prudence and Fairy set to work again in good earnest.  The house was already well cleaned.  The sandwiches were made.  But there were the last “rites,” and every detail must be religiously attended to.

It must be remembered that the three main down-stairs rooms of the parsonage were connected by double doors,—­double doors, you understand, not portieres!  The front room, seldom used by the parsonage family, opened on the right of the narrow hallway.  Beyond it was the living-room, which it must be confessed the parsonage girls only called “living-room” when they were on their Sunday behavior,—­ordinarily it was the sitting-room, and a cheery, homey, attractive place it was, with a great bay window looking out upon the stately mansion of the Averys.  To the left of the living-room was the dining-room.  The double doors between them were always open.  The other pair was closed, except on occasions of importance.