"She's been at the foot of the stairs all day. She won't do a thing I tell her. She won't mind the nurse. Father told her to keep away, too, but she does not pay any attention. When I speak to her, she does not answer. When she hears you coming down, she runs away and hides, but she goes right back again."
"Can your father make her eat? If he commands her?"
"I do not know. I doubt it. But we can try. Here's some hot soup,--I'll call father."
So Lark was brought into the dining-room, and her father came down the stairs. The doctor whispered an explanation to him in the hall.
"Lark," said her father, gently but very firmly, "you must eat, or you will be sick, too. We need all of our time to look after Carol to-day. Do you want to keep us away from her to attend to you?"
"No, father, of course not. I wish you would all go right straight back to Carrie this minute and leave me alone. I'm all right. But I can't eat until Carol is well."
Her father drew a chair to the table and said, "Sit down and eat that soup at once, Larkie."
Lark's face quivered, but she turned away. "I can't, father. You don't understand. I can't eat,--I really can't. Carrie's my twin, and--oh, father, don't you see how it is?"
He stood for a moment, frowning at her thoughtfully. Then he left the room, signing for the doctor to follow. "I'll send Prudence down," he said. "She'll manage some way."
"I must stay here until I see her eat it," said the doctor. "If she won't do it, she must be kept under morphine for a few days. But it's better not. Try Prudence, by all means."
So Prudence, white-faced, eyes black-circled, came down from the room where she had served her sister many weary hours. The doctor was standing in the center of the room. Fairy was hovering anxiously near Lark, rigid at the window.
"Larkie," whispered Prudence, and with a bitter cry the young girl leaped into her sister's arms.
Prudence caressed and soothed her tenderly. "Poor little Larkie," she murmured, "poor little twinnie!--But Carol is resting pretty well now, Lark. She's coming through all right. She was conscious several times to-day. The first time she just looked up at me and smiled and whispered, 'Hard luck, Prue.' Then a little later she said, 'Tell Larkie I'm doing fine, and don't let her worry.' Pretty soon she spoke again, 'You make Lark be sensible, Prue, or she'll be sick, too.' Once again she started to say something about you, but she was too sick to finish. 'Larkie is such a--,' but that was as far as she could go. She was thinking of you all the time, Lark. She is so afraid you'll worry and make yourself sick, too. She would be heartbroken if she was able to see you, and you were too sick to come to her. You must keep up your strength for Carol's sake. If she is conscious to-morrow, we're going to bring you up a while to see her. She can hardly stand being away from you, I know. But you must get out-of-doors, and bring some color to your cheeks, first. It would make her miserable to see you like this."