ETHEL HUESTGN
ILL.X7 STRAIT!) BY
W.C . TANNE
1M
(Copyright, by the Bobbs-Merrlll Company.)
SYNOPSIS.
CHAPTER I—Prudence Starr, eldest of
five motherless girls, comes to the Meth
odist parsonage at Mount Mark, as house
mother for her father, the Methodist min
ister.
CHAPTER-II—The girls entertain a vis
iting minister at luncheon, to his discom
fiture. Carol, one of the twins, rides the
family cow with disastrous results.
CHAPTER III—Prudence and Fairy re
ceive the Uadies' Aid society while 1-ark,
Carol and Connie practice modeling in
mud on the dining ro(>m table.
CHAPTER IV—The twins prepare Con
stance for initiation into their private
secret society with results unexpected to
themselves.
CHAPTER V—When Fairy entertains
Eugene Raider in the evening, the twins
sonvince Prudence that etiquette has small
place in the Starr family.
CHAPTER VI—Connie practices econ
omy by borrowing $6 from one of the
trustees to buy a new cloak and uri
Donsdously teaches the church pillars a
lesson.
CHAPTER VII—Prudence captures a
burglar and wins $6(Xi reward.
CHAPTER VIII — Prudence takes an
early morning bicycle jaunt and rides in
to a mule, a sprained ankle and a ru
niance. The knight of romance is Jerrold
I farmer.
CHAPTER IX—When Prudence is
brought home Father Starr reads the
girl’s awakened heart in her actions and
his own heart is heavy.
“It is quite true,” she admitted
frankly. “The mule and I disgraced
the parsonage this morning, and 1
wanted the rest of you to redeem it
this afternoon.” She looked at him
inquiringly. “Then you had another
coat?”
“No, I didn’t. I saw this one in a
window this morning, and couldn’t r<t
sist it. Was the ride very hard on
your ankle?”
Mr. Starr was puzzled. Evidently it
was not lack of funds which hronght
tills man on foot from Des Moines to
Mount Mark, half-way across the
state! He did not look like a man
fleeing from Justice. What, then, was
the explanation?
“You must have .found it rather a
long walk,” he began tentatively, his
eyes on the young man's face.
“Yes, I think my feet are a little
blistered. I have walked farther than
that many times, but I am out of prac
tice now. Sometimes, however, walk
ing is u painful necessity.”
now long did it take you coming
from Des Moines to Mount Mark?” in
quired Carol in a subdued and respect
ful voice, and curious, withal.
“From Des Moines,” he gasped.
“Good heavens! I did not walk from
Des Moines! Did you—” lie turned
to Prudence qucstionlngly. "Did you
tldnk I walked clear front Des
Moines?”
“Yes.” And added hastily, “Rut I
did not care if you did. It did not
make any difference how you came.”
For a moment he was puzzled. Then
he burst out laughing. “I am afraid
we had too much to talk about this
morning. I thought I had explained
> my situation, but evidently I did not.
I drove from Des Moines in the car,
und—”
“The automobile,” gasped Carol,
with a triumphant look ut Lark.
“Yes, just so. I stopped at several
places on business as I came through.
I drove from Burlington this morning,
but I got off the road. The car brok?>
down on me, and I couldn’t fix it—
broke an axle. So I had to walk in.
That is what I was seeing about to
day, sending a man out for the car
and arranging about the repairs.” He
smiled again. “What in the world did
you think I would walk from Des
Moines for?” he asked Prudence, more
inquisitive than grammatical.
“I did not think anything about It
until they asked, and—I did not know
about the car. You did not mention
it.”
No. 1 remember now. we were
talking of other things all the time."
He turned frankly to Mr. Starr. “Per
haps you have heard of the Harmer
Automobile company of Des Moines.
My father was Harvey Harmer. Two
yeurs ago, when I was running around
In Kurope, he died. It was his desire
that I should personally take charge
of tlie business. So I hurried home,
and have had charge of the company
since then. We are establishing sules
agencies here, and in Burlington, and
several other towns. I came out for
a little trip, and took advantage of the
opportunity to discuss the business
with our new men. That’s what
brought me to Mount Mark.”
For the first time in her life, Pru
dence distinctly triumphed over her
father. She Hushed him the glance of
u conqueror, and he nodded, under
standing^. He liked Jerrold Harmer,
as much ns he could like any man who
stepped seriously into the life of Pru
dence. He was glad that things were
well. But—they would excuse him, he
must look after his Sunday's sermons.
A little later the twins and Connie
grew restless, and finally Connie blurt
ed out, “Say, Prue, don’t you think
we’ve upheld the parsonage long
enough? I wunt to get some fresh
air.” The twins would never have
been guilty of such sociul indiscretion
as this, but they gladly availed them
selves o£ Cuipile’S- “bleak.” an<L fob
k
| lowed her mit-of-doors. Then Fairy
I wt up, laughing. “1 have done my
share, too. I think we’ll leave the
pffrsonage in your hands now, l'nie.
| 1 want to write to Aunt Grace. I’ll be
| just at the head of the stairs, anti if
Prudence wants me, you will call,
won’t you, Mr. Uartner? And won’t
j ytiti stay for dinner with us? I’m sure
‘ to disgrace the parsonage again, for
1 am no cook, but you can get along
for once, surely. We spend more time
laughing when the food Is bad. and
laughter "is very healthful. You will
stay, won’t you?"
Jerrohl Iiarmer looked very eager.
’ .and yet lie looked somewhat doubtfully
.at Prudence. Her eyes were eloquent
with entreaties. Finally lie laughed,
and said. "I should certainly like t<>
stay, but you see I want lo come back
tomorrow. Now, will I dare to come
hack tomorrow if I slay for dinner to
j night? Wouldn’t Connie say that was
disgracing the parsonage?”
Fairy laughed delightedly. “That is
very good." she said. “Then you will
stay. I’ll try to fix it up with Connie
to save the reputation of the house."
| No. they did not quote poetry, they
[did not discuss the psychological in
tricacies of spontaneous attraction,
j they did not say anything deep, or
! wise, or learned. Hut they smiled at
each other, with pleased investigating
j eyes. He put his hand on the cover
let, just near enough to touch the hire
on the sleeve of Iter silk dressing gown.
And together they found paradise in
tile shabby sitting room of the old
Methodist parsonage that afternoon.
“Must you prepare meat for bread
ing half an hour before cooking, or
when?” demanded Fairy, from tin* din
ing-room door.
“What?—f)lt!—Fifteen minutes be
fore. Don’t forget to salt and pepper
the crumbs, Fairy."
remaps ■'<•1111“ nun* your miner win
let you anil a couple of the others
come to 1 >es Moines with me in tlie car.
You would enjoy a few days there. 1
know. I live with my aunt, a dear,
motherly little old soul. She will adore
you, Prudence, and you will like her.
loo. Would your father let you spend
a week? We can easily drive back
and forth in the car.”
‘‘Maybe he will, hut who will keep
the parsonage while 1 am away?"
“Fairy, to be sure. She must be a
good fairy once in a while. We can
ttike the twins with us, Connie, too,
if you like, and Fairy will only have to
mother your father.”
“Prudence, shall we have too or cof
fee?” Tills was Lark from the door
wuy. “Fairy wants to know.”
“What?—Oh!—Which do you want,
Jerry?” '
“Which does your father prefer?”
“He doesn’t drink either except for
breakfast.”
“I generally drink coffee, hut I do
not care much for it, so do not both
“Coffee, Lark.”
“Hid you ever have a lover, Pru
dence? A real lover, I mean.”
“Mo, I never did.”
“I’m awfully glad of that. I’ll—”
“Prudence, do you use half milk and
half water for creamed tomato soup,
or all milk?"
‘*What?—Oh'—All milk, Connie, and
tell Fairy not to salt it until it is en
tirely done, or it may curdle.”
“What in the world would they ever
do without you. Prudence? You are
the soul of the parsonage, aren't you?"
“No, 1 am just the cook and the
chambermaid,” she answered, laugh
ing. “But don’t you see how hard it
will be for me to go away?”
“But it isn’t fair! Vacation is com
ing now, and Fairy ought to take a
turn. What will they do when you get j
married?”
i nave always saiu 1 wouiu mu get
married.”
“But don’t you want to pet married,
some time?”
“Oli, that isn’t it. I just can’t be
• cause i must take care of the parson
age, and ruise the girls. I can’t.”
“But you will," lie whispered, and
his hand touched hers for just a sec
ond. Prudence did not answer. She
lifted her eyes to his face, and caught
in her breath once more.
A little later he said, “Do you mind
I if 1 go upstairs and talk to your father
a few minutes? Maybe I'd better.”
“But do not stay very long,” she
urged, and she wondered why the
brightness and sunshine vanished from
the room when he went out. "First
door to the right,” she culled after
him.
Mr. Starr arose to greet him, and
welcomed him to his combination study
and bedroom with great friendliness.
But Jerrold went straight to the point.
“Mr. Starr, it's very kind of you to
receive a perfect stranger as you have
I me. But I understand that with a girl
like Prudence, you will want to lie
i careful. I can gi^'e you the names of
! several prominent men in Des Moines,
Christians, who know me well, and
can tell you all about me.”
“It isn’t necessary. We are parson
age people, and are accustomed to re
ceiving men and women as worthy of
our trust, until we, iind them different.
_t___
..
We are glad to count you among our
friend*.”
“Thunk you, but—you see, Mr. Starr,
this is a little different. Some day.
Prudence and I will want to he mar
ried, and you will wish to be sure
about me.”
“Does Prudence know about that?"
“No.” with a smile, “we haven't got
that far yet. But 1 am sure she feels
ii. She hasn’t—well, you know what
l mean. She has been asleep, but I
believe she is waking up now.”
“Yes. I think so. Do you mind if 1
ask you a few questions?”
“No, indeed. Anything you like.”
“Well, first, are you a Christian?”
“Not the kind you are, Mr. Starr. I
go to ehureh. and I believe the Bible,
though I seldom read it. But I'll aid
busy now, if you like. 1 know Pru
dence would make me do that.” And
he smiled again.
“Do you drink?”
“I did a little, but T promised Pru
dence this morning I would quit it. I
smoke, too. Prudence knows it, but
she did not make me promise to quit
that?” 11 is voice was raised, inquir
ingly.
“Would you have promised, if she
had asked it?”
“I suppose T would.” Tie flushed a
little. “I know I was pretty hard hit.
"Do You Drink?”
and it was such a new experience that
I would have promised anything she
asked. But I like smoking.”
"Never mind the smoking. T only
asked that question out of curiosity.
Tell me about your relations with
your mother when she was living."
“She has been dead four years.”
Jerrold spoke with some emotiou. “We
were great chums, though her health
was always poor. When I was it, J
school. I spent all my \ ;> utions it*
home to be with her. And 1 never
went abroad until after her death be
•ause she did not like the idea of my
P*ing so fur from her.”
“Jerrold, my hoy. I do not want to
teem too severe, but—tell me, has
• here been anything in your life, about
women that could come out and hurt
Prudence later on?"
Jerrold hesitated. “Mr. Slarr. I have
been voting, and headstrong, and im
pulsive. I have done some tilings I
wish now I hadn’t. But I believe there 1
is nothing that I could not explain to
Prudence so she would understand.”
“All right. If you are the man. God
bless you. And, do you mind if i just
suggest that you go a little slow with
Prudence? Remember that she has
been sound asleep, until this morning.
I do not want her awakened too rude
ly.”
“Neither do I,” said Jerrold quickly.
"Shall I go down now? The girls have
invited me to stay for supper, and
Prudence says I am to come hack to
morrow, too. Is that all right? Re
member, I'll be going home on Mon
day !”
"It is all right, certainly. Spend as
much time here as you like. You will
either get worse, or get cured, and—
w hi<-h ever it is, you've gut to have a
chance. I like you, Jerrold. Pru
dence judges by instinct, but it does
not often fail her.”
Prudence heard him running down
the stairs boyishly, and when lie came
in, before slit* could speak, he whis
pered. “Shut your eyes tight, Prudence.
And do not scold me, for 1 can’t help
it.” 'l^lieii lie put tiis bauds over hers,
and kisseil her on the lips. They were
both breathless after that. Prudence
at last was aroused from her slumber.
CHAPTER XI.
She Orders Her Life.
That was the beginning of Pru
dence’s golden summer. She was not
given to self-analysis. She hadn’t the
time. She took things as they came. |
She could not hear the thought of shar
ing with the parsonage family even the
least ardent and most prosaic of Jet
rold's letters. But she never asked
herself the reason. The days when
.lerry came were tremulously -happy
ones for her—she was all aquiver when
she heard him swinging briskly up the
ramshackle parsonage walk, and her
breath was suffocatingly hot. But she
took it as a matter of course. She
knew that Jerry’s voice was the sweet
est voice in the world. She knew that
his eyes were the softest and brightest
and the most tender. She knew that
Ids hands had a thrilling touch quite
ri ferent from the touch of ordinary,
less dear hands. Site kuew that Ids
smile lifted Tier IntoTf delirium "of 71c
j light. Prudence never thought of that.
She just lived in the sweet eestiitic
dreitui of the summer, mid was well
and richly content.
So the vacation passed aiul Indian
summer came.
It was Saturday evening. The early
supper at the parsonage was over, th 1
twins had washed the dishes, and still
the daylight lingered. Prudence and
Jerry sat side by side, and olos Iv, on
the front porch, talking in whispers.
Fairy had gone for a stroll with the
still faithful Rabble. Connie and the
twins had evidently vanished. Ah—
not quite that! Carol and Lurk eame
swiftly around the corner of the par
sonage.
“Good evening.” said Lark poIlMy,
and Prudence sat up abruptly. Tne
twins never wasted politeness! Tiny
wanted something.
“Do you mind if we take Jerry
around by t he "woodshed for a few min
utes, Prue?”
Prudence sniffed suspiciously. “What
are you going to do to him?” she de
manded.
“We won't hurt him,” grinned Carol
Impishly.
“Maybe he’s afraid to come,” said
Lark, “for there are two of us, and
we are mighty men of valor.”
“That's all right,” Prudence an
swered defensively. “I’d sooner face a
tribe of wild Indians any day than you
twins when you are mischief-bent.”
“Oh, we just want to use him a few’
minutes,” said Carol impatiently.
“Upon our honor, as Christian gentle
men, we promise not to hurt a hair'of
his head.”
“Oh, come along, and cut out the
comedy," Jerry broke in, laughing.
Then the twins led him to the wood
shed. Close beside the shed grew a
tall and luxuriant maple.
“Do you see this board?” began
Lark, exhibiting with some pride s
t T.,,.
Side by Side Talking in Whispers.
sol'd board about two foot In length, |
“Well, we found this over by the Av
ery burn. We've found a perfectly
gorgeous place up in the old tree where
we can make a seat. We thought you
could nail this on to the limbs—there
are two right near each other, evident
ly put there on purpose for us. See
what dandy big nails we have!”
“Front tlie Avery’s woodshed, I sup
pose,” lie suggested, smiling.
“Oh, they are quite rusty. We found
them in the scrap heap. We’re very
good friends with the Averys, very
good, indeed.” she continued hastily.
“They allow us to rummage around at
will—in the barn.”
“And see this rope,” cried Carol.
“Isn't it a dandy?”
“Ah! The Avery barn must bo inex
haustible in its resources.”
“How suspicious you nre, .Terry.”
mourned Lark. “We thought when you
had the board nailed on, you might
rope it to tlie limbs above. Do you sup
pose you can do that, Jerry?” ■
“Well, let’s begin. Now. observe! I
loop this end of tlie rope lightly about
my—er—middle. Tlie other end will
dangle on the ground to be drawn up
at will. I bestow the good but rusty
nails in this pocket, and the hammer
here. Then with the admirable board
beneath my arm, I mount—”
And Jerry sntiiod as lie heard the
faithful twins, with much grunting and
an occasional groan, following in his
wake.
it was a delightful location, as
they had said. The board fitted nice
ly on the two limbs, and Jerry fastened
it with the rusty nails. The twins were
jubilant and loud in their praises of j
his skill and courage.
“Oh, Jerry!” exclaimed Carol, with
deep satisfaction, “it’s such a blessing
to discover something really nice about j
you after ail these months!”
“Now, we’ll just—”
“Hush!’’ hissed Lark. “Here conies (
Connie. Hold your breath, Jerry, and ;
don't budge.”
“Isn’t site in on this?” he whispered. -
He could hear Connie making weird
noises as she came around the house
from the front. She was learning to
whistle, and the effect was ghastly in
the extreme. Connie’s mouth had not
been designed for whistling.
“Sh ! Site’s the band of dark-browed
gypsies trying to steal my lovely wife."
“I’m the lovely wife,” interrupted
Carol, complacently. •
“15ut Connie does not know about it.
Sin* is so religious she won't be any
of the villain parts.”
Connie came around the corner ot
the liarjmnuj^. nut Uie buck walk be
nenth tin- inutile. Thou she gave a
gleeful scream. Right before her lay a
beautiful heavy rope. Connie had been
yearning for a good rope to make a
swing. Here it lay, at her very feet,
plainly a gift of tile gods. She did not
wait to see where the other end of the
rope was. She just grabbed what she
saw before her, and started violently*
back around the house with It. yelling:
"ITudenee! Look at my rope!”
Prudence rushed around the parson
age. The twins shrieked wildly, as
there was a terrific tug and heave of
the Utah beside them, and then—a
crashing of branches and leaves. Jerry .
was gone!
It did look horrible, from above ns
well as below. But Jerry, when lie felt
the first light twinge as Connie lifted
llie rope, foresaw what was coming
and was ready for It. As he went down,
he grabbed a firm hold on the branch
on which lie had stood, then he drop
ped to the next, and held again. On
tiie lowest limb he really clung for
liftcen seconds, and took in his bear
ings. Connie had dropped the rope
when the twins screamed, so he had
nothing more to fear from her. lie saw
Prudence, white, with wild eyes, both
arms stretched out toward him.
"(>. K., Prue,” he called, and then he
dropped, lie landed on his feet, a lit
tle Jolted, but none the worse for his
fall.
* He ran at once to Prudence. “I'm
ail right,” lie cried, really alarmed by
the white horror in her face. “Pru
dence: Prudence!” Then her arms
dropped, and with a brave but feeble
smile, she swayed a little. Jerry took
her in his arms. “Sweetheart!” lie
w iiispered. “Little sweetheart ! Do—
do you love me so much, dearest?”
Prudence raised her hands to his
face, and looked intensely into his
eyes, all the sweet loving soul of her
shining in her own. And Jerry kissed [
lier. ,
i ne twins scrammed down from the
maple, speechless and cold with terror,
and saw Prudence and Jerry! Then
they saw Connie, staring at them with
interest and amusement.
"I think we'd better go to bed, all
three of us,” declared Lark sturdily. ,
And they set off heroically around the
house. But at the corner Carol
turned.
"Take my advice and go into the
woodshed," she called, “for all the Av
erys are looking out of their windows.”
Prudence did not hear, but he drew
her swiftly to the darkest corner of llie
side porch—and history repeated it
self once more!
At twelve, Jerry went upstairs to
' bed. his lips tingling with the fervent
tenderness of her parting kiss, lie
stood at his window, looking soberly
nut into the moonlit parsonage yard.
'She is an angel, a pure, sweet, unself
ish little angel,” he whispered, and his
voice was broken, and his eyes were
wet, “and she is going to be in.v wife!
Oh. God, teach me how to be good to
her, and help me make her as happy as
she deserves.”
At two o'clock, thinking again the
soft shy words she had whispered to
him, he dropped lightly asleep and
•■ireamed of her. With the first pale
streaks of dayllgh*' stealing into his
room he awoke. It was after four
o’clock. A little later—just it few min
utes inter—he heard a light tap on his
door. It came again, and he hounded
out of bed.
“Prudence! Is anything wrong?"
“Hush. Jerry, not so loud!” And
what it strange and weary voice. “Come
downstairs, will you? I want to tell
you something. Hi wait at the foot
of the stairs. Be quiet—-do not wake
father and the girls. Will you he down
soon ?”
"In two minutes!”
Ami in two minutes ho was down,
agonizingly anxious, knowing -that
something was wrong, Prudence was
waiting for him, and ns he reached
the hot tom step she clutched his httrids
desperately.
“Jerry,” she whispered. “I—forgive
me—I honestly— Oh, 1 didn't think
what I was saying last night. You were
so dear, and I was so happy, and for
a while 1 really believed we could
belong to each other. But 1 can't, you
know. I’ve promised papa and tin*
girls a dozen times that 1 would never
marry. Don’t you see how it is? 1
must take it hack.”
•ferry smiled a little, it must be ad
mitted. This was so like his consci
entious little Prudence!
“Dial rest.” he said gently. “You love,
me. ? i ur father would never allow
you to sacrifice yourself like that. The
girls would not hour of it. They want
you to he happy. And you can't be
happy without me, cun you?”
Suddenly site crushed close to him.
“Oh, Jerry,” she sobbed, “1 will never
he happy again, I know. But—it is
right for me to stay here and lie the
mother in the parsonage. It is wicked
of me to want you more than all of
them. Don’t you sec it is? They
haven’t any mother. They haven’t
anyone hut me. Of course, they would
not allow it. but they will not know
anything about it. I must do it my
self. And father especially must
never know. I want you to go away
this morning before breakfast and
—never come aguiu.”
She clung to him ns she said this,
but tier voice did not falter. “And you
must not write to me any more. For,
oh, Jerry, if I see you again I ohii
never let yon go. 1 know it. Will you
do ibis fi • me?”
“You tire nervous and excited,” he
said tenderly. “Let’s wait until uftet
breakfast. Then we’ll talk it nil over
with your father, and it shall be as lit
says. Won't that he better?”
“Oh. no. For father will say what
ever he thinks will make me happy. He
must not know a thing about it. l’rotu
js*\ Jerry, Unit you will never tell him
1
■■■
one word.”
“I promise, of course, Prudence. 1
will let you tell him.”
Hut she shook her head. “He will
never know. Oh. Jerry! I can't beai
to think of never seeing you again,
and never getting letters from you, and
it seems to kill me Inside, Just the
thought of It.”
"Sit here In my lap. Put your head
on my shoulder, like that. Let me rub
your t'uee a little. You’re feverish. You
are sick. Go to bed, won't you, sweet
heart? We can settle this later on.”
“You must go right away, or I can
not let you go at all 1”
“Do you mean you want me to get
my things and go right now?”
“Yes.” She buried her face In hi;
shoulder. “If—if you stay in your
room until breakfast time I will lock
you in. so you cannot leave me agaia
I know’ it. 1 am crazy today.”
“Don’t you think you owe me some
thing, as well as your father and sis
ters? Didn’t God bring us together,
and make us love each other? Don't
you think he intended us for each oth
er? Do you wish you hud never met
me?”
“Jerry 1”
“Then, sweetheart, be reasonable.
Your father loved your mother, and
married her. That is God’s plan for all
of us. You have been a wonderfully
brave and sweet daughter and sister,
I know. But surely Fairy Is old enough
to take your place now.”
“Fairy’s going to be a professor, and
—the girls do not mind her very well.
And she isn’t as much comfort to fm
ther as I am. It’s just because I am
most like mother, you see. But any
how, 1 promised. I can’t leave them.”
“Your father expects you to marry,
and to marry me. I told him about it
myself, long ago. And he was perfect
ly willing. He didn't say a word
against it.”
“Of course he wouldn’t. That’s just
like father. But still, I promised. And
what would the girls say if I should
go hack on them? They have trusted
me, always. If I fail them will they
ever trust anybody else? If you love
me, Jerry, please go, and stay away.”
Hut her arm tightened about his neck.
"I'll wait here until you get your
tilings, and we can—say goodby. And
don’t forget your promise.”
un. very wen, Prudence, he an
swered, half irritably, “If you insist
on ordering me away from the house
like this, I can only go. But—"
“Let’s not talk any more about it,
Jerry. Blew***. I’ll wnit until you come
down."
When he came down a little later,
with his suitcase, his face was white
and strained.
She put her arms around his neck.
“Jerry,” she whispered. “I want to roll
you that I love you so much that—I
could go away with you. and never see
any of them any more, or papa, or the
parsonage, and still feel rich, if I just
had you 1 You—everything in me seems
to be all yours. I—dove you."
Her tremulous lips were pressed
ngainst his.
“Oh, sweetheart, this Is folly, all
folly. But I can't make you see it. It
is wrong, it is wickedly wrong, but—”
“But I am all they have, Jerry, and—
1 promised."
"Whenever you want me. Prudence.
Just send. I’ll never change. I'll al
ways be Just the same. God intended
you for me, 1 know, and—I’ll be wait
ing.”
“Jerry ! Jerry ! .Terry !” she whispered
passionately, sohhlng, quivering in his
arms. It was he who drew away.
“Good-by, sweetheart," he said quiet
ly, great pity In his heart for the girl
who in her desire to do right was doing
"Whenever You Send, I Will Come.”
such horrible wrong, “thnsl-hy, sweet*
heart. Remember, I will be waiting.
Whenever you send. I will come.”
lie stepped outside, and closed the
door. Prudence stood motionless, her
hands clenched, until she could no
longer hear his footsteps. Then she
dropped on the floor, and lay there,
face downward, until she-heard h'alry
moving In her room upstairs. Tl«eh she
went into the kitchen and built the Are
for breakfast.
(Cominued Next Week.) - V
Nothing Unemployed.
“Talk about isMjple who put hvery
thing to use. Mrs. Blank is the limit.**
is she?" “Why, that woman would
use the family skeleton for a dress
torrn,"—Boston Evening Tranacript.
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