Part 9 (1/2)

But in two days Constance repented of her rashness. In three days she was pleading for forgiveness. And in four days she was starting in on another two weeks of pledgedom, and the desecrated ribbon with its drop of blood reposed once more on her ambitious breast.

For three days her service was sore indeed, for the twins informed her, with sympathy, that she must be punished for insubordination. ”But after that, we'll be just as easy on you as anything, Connie,” they told her. ”So don't you get sore now. In three days, we'll let up on you.”

A week pa.s.sed, ten days, and twelve. Then came a golden October afternoon when the twins sat in the haymow looking out upon a mellow world. Constance was in the yard, reading a fairy story. The situation was a tense one, for the twins were hungry, and time was heavy on their hands.

”The apple trees in Avery's orchard are just loaded,” said Lark aimlessly. ”And there are lots on the ground, too. I saw them when I was out in the field this morning.”

”Some of the trees are close to our fence, too,” said Carol slowly.

”Very close.”

Lark glanced up with sudden interest. ”That's so,” she said. ”And the wires on the fence are awfully loose.”

Carol gazed down into the yard where Constance was absorbed in her book. ”Constance oughtn't to read as much as she does,” she argued.

”It's so bad for the eyes.”

”Yes, and what's more, she's been getting off too easy the last few days. The time is nearly up.”

”That's so,” said Lark. ”Let's call her up here.” This was done at once, and the unfortunate Constance walked reluctantly toward the barn, her fascinating story still in her hand.

”You see, they've got more apples than they need, and those on the ground are just going to waste,” continued Carol, pending the arrival of the little pledge. ”The chickens are pecking at them, and ruining them.”

”It's criminal destruction, that's what it is,” declared Lark.

Connie stood before them respectfully, as they had instructed her to stand. The twins hesitated, each secretly hoping the other would voice the order. But Lark as usual was obliged to be the spokesman.

”Damsel,” she said, ”it is the will of Skull and Crossbones that you hie ye to yonder orchard,--Avery's, I mean,--and bring hither some of the golden apples basking in the sun.”

”What!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Connie, startled out of her respect.

Carol frowned.

Connie hastened to modify her tone. ”Did they say you might have them?” she inquired politely.

”That concerns thee not, 'tis for thee only to render obedience to the orders of the Society. Go out through our field and sneak under the fence where the wires are loose, and hurry back. We're awfully hungry.

The trees are near the fence. There isn't any danger.”

”But it's stealing,” objected Connie. ”What will Prudence----”

”Damsel!” And Connie turned to obey with despair in her heart.

”Bring twelve,” Carol called after her, ”that'll be four apiece. And hurry, Connie. And see they don't catch you while you're about it.”

After she had gone, the twins lay back thoughtfully on the hay and stared at the cobwebby roof above them.

”It's a good thing Prudence and Fairy are downtown,” said Lark sagely.

”Yes, or we'd catch it,” a.s.sented Carol. ”But I don't see why! The Averys have too many apples, and they are going to waste. I'm sure Mrs. Avery would rather let us have them than the chickens.”

They lay in silence for a while. Something was hurting them, but whether it was their fear of the wrath of Prudence, or the twinges of tender consciences,--who can say?

”She's an unearthly long time about it,” exclaimed Lark, at last. ”Do you suppose they caught her?”