That night Sally and Daphne held a council of war in their room. It
began by Sally saying: "I want to talk to you, Taffy, about something
important." To which Daphne replied, "Very well, go ahead, but remember
to ask me what I have to tell you when you finish!"
"All right, mine's about Jan." Sally made herself comfortable in the big
chair and Daphne curled up on the window seat. "On the way back from
target practice today, she informed me that she would not be on the
team, even if she got the chance, because Phyl might be hurt."
Instead of looking angry or concerned, as Sally expected, Daphne laughed
heartily.
"I don't think it's funny, she really meant it," Sally protested.
Daphne stopped laughing. "It is funny though, listen. This afternoon,
after we had come up from the Senior's Retreat, Phyl told me the same
thing."
"But I don't understand."
"About Jan, of course."
"You mean she said she would be hurt if Jan did accept for the team?"
"Oh, no, you ought to know Phyl better than that. She said she wouldn't
accept for the Dramatic Club unless Jan was asked, too. There now, what
do you think of that?"
Sally listened and after a mystified minute understood.
"Well, of all the ridiculous children!" she exclaimed laughing.
"Yes, but what are we going to do about it? They simply can't be allowed
to spoil each other's chances like that," Daphne objected.
"Oh, we can fix that, now that we know about them both," Sally
exclaimed. "Look, we'll do it this very minute." She jumped up and went
to the writing table, found a half sheet of notepaper and began to
write.
Daphne looked over her shoulder.
"Will that do?" Sally inquired as she finished and carefully blotted the
page.
"Couldn't be better," Daphne laughed. "Thank goodness, you can always
depend on the Twins to see the funny side of everything."
"I can't wait until morning to give it to them," Sally announced. She
was half undressed but she slipped into a kimono and tip-toed into the
hall. She poked the letter under the Twins's door and hurried back to
the waiting Daphne.
"Wish I could see their faces when they read it," she said.
Janet saw the note first.
"What is that?" she demanded, drawing Phyllis's attention to it.
"Looks like a letter," Phyllis replied smiling at Janet's apparent
concern. "Anyway, I don't think it's a bomb, so it might be safe to pick
it up."
"You never can tell." Janet stood looking down at the white envelope.
"It may be a joke, and then again it may be a communication from one of
the numerous ghosts that haunt Hilltop. You'd better pick it up, Phyl."
Phyllis leaned down and looked at the letter. "Sally's writing, so it
can't be dangerous," she said as she picked it up and opened it.
"Oh, it's for both of us. It says: 'Read this aloud' in large letters.
Listen--
"Dear Twins: (she read)
Once upon a time there were two dogs. One was an Irish terrier
and the other was a poodle, and they loved each other as only
dogs can. The Irish terrier liked to run and jump, but the
poodle liked to sit still and look very beautiful.
One day they were both very hungry, and they both went hunting
but they did not go together.
The Irish terrier met a kind old gentleman who offered him a
bone, but the silly dog wouldn't take it because he thought of
his friend who was so hungry, too.
Now the poodle, on his walk, met a kind old lady, and she
offered him a nice bone, too, but he thought of the poor hungry
terrier and he refused to eat it.
So both of those nice dogs died of hunger, because they were so
foolish, but of course it would never have happened if they had
each known that the other was being offered a bone. This tale
has a moral!"
Janet and Phyllis looked at each other, and then burst out laughing.
"I know what it means," Phyllis said at last. "At least I think I do."
"Of course, it means the Archery Team and the Dramatic Club," Janet
answered. "I told Sally today that if I am elected I didn't think I'd
accept, because it would take me away from you so much."
Phyllis' arm encircled Janet's shoulder, and she rubbed her soft cheek
against hers.
"I told Taffy exactly the same thing about the Dramatic Club," she said,
"and of course you might know they would have a fit."
"I didn't know about the Dramatic Club until after I'd told Sally,"
Janet admitted.
"And I didn't think about Archery when I talked to Taffy. I was just
angry at the thought of Miss Slocum choosing me when you know twice as
much," Phyllis protested.
"But I don't," Janet denied. "Imagine my acting in anything! Why, I'd
perfectly hate it in the first place, and in the second I'd die of
fright."
Phyllis looked at her doubtfully. She still hated the idea of being in
something that had no place for Janet.
"Then I suppose--" she began.
"That we may as well each eat our own bones," Janet finished laughing,
"as long as there are two of them; and after all if you should make the
Dramatic Club and I the Team it would help the old wing."
"Yes, of course, it would," Phyllis agreed. "But you're sure you don't
care, Jan?"
"Of course, I don't, silly. I was only afraid you might. Let's answer
Sally's letter."
They thought for several minutes, and the final result seemed to please
them, for Janet stole softly across the hall, slipped the note under
Sally's and Daphne's door, and knocked ever so lightly, before she
hurried back.
Sally was almost asleep, but Daphne heard the knock. She jumped up,
switched on the lights, and woke Sally.
"The Twins's reply," she announced as she opened the note.
"Read it quick," Sally said sleepily.
"The Story of the Two Dogs, continued (she read).
And so the two little dogs went home to die. But just as they
were about to draw their last breath, the nice old gentleman met
the nice old lady, and they told each other about the dogs they
had met on their walk, and about how foolish they had been.
'But Aunt Jane's Poll-parrot, this can't go on,' said the old
gentleman.
'It would be silly to let it, wouldn't it?' drawled the nice old
lady.
'We will go and tell them how foolish they are,' they said
together.
So they went, and the two dogs were very glad to see them, and
when they learned that there was two bones, they jumped up and
barked, and they each promised to eat one apiece, and never
again to be so silly; because they realized that if they ate
enough bones they would grow strong, and perhaps some day they
would be a credit to the wing, it was a very old wing, of the
dog kennel where they lived."
"The satisfying thing about the Twins is that they always do what's
expected of them," Daphne commented as she folded the note up. "The
beginning of the Two Dogs was brilliant enough but the end--"
"The end is a masterpiece," Sally replied, now wide awake.
"Aunt Jane's Poll-parrot marked you as the old gentleman."
"Well, how about 'drawled the nice old lady'?"
"Oh, it was a masterpiece all right, and I loved the touch about the
wing." Daphne went back to her own bed.
"That, my child, is the first real stirring of the spirit of
Hilltop--loyalty. Oh, for the day when we are Seniors!" Sally yawned and
stretched her white arms high above her head. "Think of it, Taffy,
Seniors, our four!" she added drowsily, but this time Daphne was asleep.