A little after nine, she called out dismally, “Fairy!” And Fairy, fearing fresh disaster, came running out.

“What now?  What——­”

“I forget what you told me to say,” whispered Prudence wretchedly, “what was it?  The soup is ready, and piping hot,—­but what is it you want me to say?”

Fairy screamed with laughter.  “You goose!” she cried.  “Say anything you like.  I was just giving you a tip, that was all.  It doesn’t make any difference what you say.”

“Oh, I am determined to do my part just right,” vowed Prudence fervently, “according to etiquette and all.  What was it you said?”

Fairy stifled her laughter with difficulty, and said in a low voice, “Wouldn’t you like a little nice, hot, oyster stew?” Prudence repeated it after her breathlessly.

So Fairy returned once more, and soon after Prudence tapped on the door.  Then she opened it, and thrust her curly head inside.  “Wouldn’t you like a little nice, hot, oyster stew?” she chirped methodically.  And Fairy said, “Oh, yes indeed, Prudence,—­this is so nice of you.”

The stew was steaming hot, and the three gathered sociably about the table.  Prudence was talking.  Fairy was passing the “crackers,”—­Prudence kicked her foot gently beneath the table, to remind her that etiquette calls them “wafers.”  So it happened that Babbie was first to taste the steaming stew.  He gasped, and gulped, and swallowed some water with more haste than grace.  Then he toyed idly with spoon and wafer until Prudence tasted also.  Prudence did not gasp.  She did not cry out.  She looked up at her sister with wide hurt eyes,—­a world of pathos in the glance.  But Fairy did not notice.

“Now, please do not ask me to talk until I have finished my soup,” she was saying brightly, “I simply can not think and appreciate oyster stew at the same time.”

Then she appreciated it!  She dropped her spoon with a great clatter, and jumped up from the table.  “Mercy!” she shrieked.  “It is poisoned!”

Babbie leaned back in his chair and laughed until his eyes were wet.  Prudence’s eyes were wet, too, but not from laughter!  What would etiquette think of her, after this?

“What did you do to this soup, Prudence?” demanded Fairy.

“I made it,—­nothing else,” faltered poor Prudence, quite crushed by this blow.  And oysters forty cents a pint!

“It’s pepper, I think,” gasped Babbie.  “My insides bear startling testimony to the presence of pepper.”

And he roared again, while Prudence began a critical examination of the oysters.  She found them literally stuffed with pepper, there was no doubt of it.  The twins had done deadly work!  Their patience, at least, was commendable,—­it seemed that not one oyster had escaped their attention.  The entire pint had been ruined by the pepper.

“Revenge, ye gods, how sweet,” chanted Fairy.  “The twins are getting even with a vengeance,—­the same twins you said were adorable, Babbie.”  It must be said for Fairy that her good nature could stand almost anything.  Even this did not seriously disturb her.  “Do you suppose you can find us some milk, Prue?  And crackers!  I’m so fond of crackers and milk, aren’t you, Babbie?”