“There are some canned oysters out there, Carol.  If I make you some soup, will you eat it?”

This was a great concession, for the canned oysters were kept in anticipation of unexpected company.  But Carol shook her head impatiently.  “I am not hungry at all,” she said.

“I’ll open some pineapple, or those beautiful pickled peaches Mrs. Adams gave us, or—­or anything, if you’ll just eat something, Carrie.”

Still Carol shook her head.  “I said I wasn’t hungry, Prudence.”  But her face was growing very red, and her eyes were strangely bright.  She moved her hands with unnatural restless motions, and frequently lifted her shoulders in a peculiar manner.

“Do your shoulders hurt, Carol?” asked her father, who was also watching her anxiously.

“Oh, it feels kind of—­well—­tight, I guess, in my chest.  But it doesn’t hurt.  It hurts a little when I breathe deep.”

“Is your throat still sore, Carol?” inquired Lark.  “Don’t you remember saying you couldn’t swallow when we were coming home from school?”

“It isn’t sore now,” said Carol.  And as though intolerant of further questioning, she left the dining-room quickly.

“Shall I put flannel on her chest and throat, father?” asked Prudence nervously.

“Yes, and if she gets worse we will call the doctor.  It’s probably just a cold, but we must——­”

“It isn’t diphtheria, papa, you know that,” cried Prudence passionately.

For there were four reported cases of that dread disease in Mount Mark.

But the pain in Carol’s chest did grow worse, and she became so feverish that she began talking in quick broken sentences.

“It was too hot!—­Don’t go away, Larkie!—­Her feet were wet, and it kept squshing out.—­I guess I’m kind of sick, Prue.—­Don’t put that thing on my head, it is strangling me!—­Oh, I can’t get my breath!” And she flung her hand out sharply, as though to push something away from her face.

Then Mr. Starr went to the telephone and hurriedly called the doctor.  Prudence meanwhile had undressed Carol, and put on her little pink flannel nightgown.

“Go out in the kitchen, girls, and shut the door,” she said to her sisters, who stood close around the precious twin, so suddenly stricken.  “Fairy!” she cried.  “Go at once.  It may be catching.  Take the others with you.  And keep the door shut.”

But Lark flung herself on her knees beside her twin, and burst into choking sobs.  “I won’t go,” she cried.  “I won’t leave Carrie.  I will not, Prudence!”

“Oh, it is too hot,” moaned Carol.  “Oh, give me a drink!  Give me some snow, Prudence.  Oh, it hurts!” And she pressed her burning hands against her chest.

“Lark,” said her father, stepping quickly to her side, “go out to the kitchen at once.  Do you want to make Carrie worse?” And Lark, cowed and quivering, rushed into the kitchen and closed the door.