CHAPTER IV

A SECRET SOCIETY

Carol and Lark, in keeping with their twin-ship, were the dearest of chums and comrades.  They resembled each other closely in build, being of the same height and size.  They were slender, yet gave a suggestion of sturdiness.  Carol’s face was a delicately tinted oval, brightened by clear and sparkling eyes of blue.  She was really beautiful, bright, attractive and vivacious.  She made friends readily, and was always considered the “most popular girl in our crowd”—­whatever Carol’s crowd at the time might be.  But she was not extremely clever, caring little for study, and with no especial talent in any direction.  Lark was as nearly contrasting as any sister could be.  Her face was pale, her eyes were dark brown and full of shadows, and she was a brilliant and earnest student.  For each other the twins felt a passionate devotion that was very beautiful, but ludicrous as well.

To them, the great rambling barn back of the parsonage was a most delightful place.  It had a big cow-shed on one side, and horse stalls on the other, with a “heavenly” haymow over all, and with “chutes” for the descent of hay,—­and twins!  In one corner was a high dark crib for corn, with an open window looking down into the horse stalls adjoining.  When the crib was newly filled, the twins could clamber painfully up on the corn, struggle backward through the narrow window, and holding to the ledge of it with their hands, drop down into the nearest stall.  To be sure they were likely to fall,—­more likely than not,—­and their hands were splinter-filled and their heads blue-bumped most of the time.  But splinters and bumps did not interfere with their pursuit of pleasure.

Now the twins had a Secret Society,—­of which they were the founders, the officers and the membership body.  Its name was Skull and Crossbones.  Why that name was chosen perhaps even the twins themselves could not explain, but it sounded deep, dark and bloody,—­and so was the Society.  Lark furnished the brain power for the organization but her sister was an enthusiastic and energetic second.  Carol’s club name was Lady Gwendolyn, and Lark’s was Sir Alfred Angelcourt ordinarily, although subject to frequent change.  Sometimes she was Lord Beveling, the villain of the plot, and chased poor Gwendolyn madly through corn-crib, horse stalls and haymow.  Again she was the dark-browed Indian silently stalking his unconscious prey.  Then she was a fierce lion lying in wait for the approaching damsel.  The old barn saw stirring times after the coming of the new parsonage family.

“Hark!  Hark!” sounded a hissing whisper from the corn-crib, and Connie, eavesdropping outside the barn, shivered sympathetically.

“What is it!  Oh, what is it?” wailed the unfortunate lady.

“Look!  Look!  Run for your life!”

Then while Connie clutched the barn door in a frenzy, there was a sound of rattling corn as the twins scrambled upward, a silence, a low thud, and an unromantic “Ouch!” as Carol bumped her head and stumbled.