The week that followed was a gala one for the twins of Skull and Crossbones.  Constance swept their room, made their bed, washed their dishes, did their chores, and in every way behaved as a model pledge of the Ancient and Honorable.  The twins were gracious but firm.  There was no arguing, and no faltering.  “It is the will of Skull and Crossbones that the damsel do this,” they would say.  And the damsel did it.

Prudence did not feel it was a case that called for her interference.  So she sat back and watched, while the twins told stories, read and frolicked, and Constance did their daily tasks.

So eight days passed, and then came Waterloo.  Constance returned home after an errand downtown, and in her hand she carried a great golden pear.  Perhaps Constance would have preferred that she escape the notice of the twins on this occasion, but as luck would have it, she passed Carol in the hall.

“Gracious!  What a pear!  Where did you get it?” demanded Carol covetously.

“I met Mr. Arnold down-town, and he bought it for me.  He’s very fond of me.  It cost him a dime, too, for just this one.  Isn’t it a beauty?” And Connie licked her lips suggestively.

Carol licked hers, too, thoughtfully.  Then she called up the stairs, “Lark, come here, quick!”

Lark did so, and duly exclaimed and admired.  Then she said significantly, “I suppose you are going to divide with us?”

“Of course,” said Connie with some indignation.  “I’m going to cut it in five pieces so Prudence and Fairy can have some, too.”

A pause, while Carol and Lark gazed at each other soberly.  Mentally, each twin was figuring how big her share would be when the pear was divided in fives.  Then Lark spoke.

“It is the will of Skull and Crossbones that this luscious fruit be turned over to them immediately.”

Constance faltered, held it out, drew it back.

“If I do, I suppose you’ll give me part of it, anyhow,” she said, and her eyes glittered.

“Not so, damsel,” said Carol ominously.  “The Ancient and Honorable takes,—­it never gives.”

For a moment Constance wavered.  Then she flamed into sudden anger.  “I won’t do it, so there!” she cried.  “I think you’re mean selfish pigs, that’s what I think!  Taking my very own pear, and—­but you won’t get it!  I don’t care if I never get into your silly old society,—­you don’t get a bite of this pear, I can tell you that!” And Constance rushed up-stairs and slammed a door.  A few seconds later the door opened again, and her cherished badge was flung down upon Skull and Crossbones.

“There’s your old black string smeared up with red ink!” she yelled at them wildly.  And again the door slammed.

Carol picked up the insulted badge, and studied it thoughtfully.  Lark spoke first.

“It occurs to me, Fair Gwendolyn, that we would do well to keep this little scene from the ears of the just and righteous Prudence.”