ETHEL HUESTON
ILLUSTRATED BY
TV.C .TANNER
%
d
(Copyright, by the Bobbs-Merrill 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 hjadlos’ Aid society while l.ark,
Carol and Connie practice modeling in
mud on the dining rt*m table.
CHAPTER IV—The twins prepare Con
Itam e for initiation into their private
secret society with results unexpected to
themselves.
CHAPTER V—When Fairy entertains
Eugene Balder in the evening, the twins
convince Prudence that etiquette has small
place in the Starr family.
CHAPTER VI—Connie practices ccon
»my by borrowing $5 from one of the
trustees to buy a new cloak and un
ponsciuusly teaches the church pillars a
lesson.
CHAPTER VII—Prudence captures a
burglar and wins $500 reward.
CHAPTER VIII
'%h,
Romance Comes.
Sometimes, Methodists, or Presbyte
rians, or heretics—whatever we may
be—we are Irresistibly impelled to the
conclusion that things were simply
bound to happen! However slight the
cause—still that cause was predestined
from the beginning of time. A girl
may by the sheerest accident step
from the street car a block ahead of
her destination—tin irritating accident.
But as she walks that bloc k she may
meet an old-time friend, and a stranger.
And that stronger—ah, you can never
convince ttie girl that her stepping
from the ear too soon was not ordered
when the foundations of the world
were laid.
After all, it was very simple. Across
the street from the parsofthge lived a
girl named Mattie Moore—a common,
unlovely, unexciting *rl. who tnughr
a country school the miles out from
town, and rode to and from her school,
morning and evening, on a bicycle.
One evening, early in June, when the
world was fair to look upon, it was
foreordained that Prudence should In
turning in at the parsonage gate .lust
as Mattie Moore whirled tip. opposite,
on her dusty wheel. Prudence stopped
to interehange polite inanities with iter
neighbor, and Mattie, wheeling the bi
cycle lightly lieside her. came across
the street and stood beneath the par- *
nonage maples with Prudence. They ,
talked of the weather, of the coming
“Sometime Will You Let Me Ride Your
Wheel 7"
summer, of Mattie's school, rejoicing
that one more week would bring free
dom' from books for Mattie and the
younger parsonage girls.
Then said Prudence: “Isn’t it great
fun to ride a bicycle? I love it. Some
time will you let me ride your wheel?”
“Why, certainly. You may ride now
If you like.”
“No,” said Prudence slowly, “I used
to ride, but am afraid it would not do
now. Some of the members might
see me, and—well, I am very grown
up, you know. Of course," she added
hastily, “it is different with you. You
ride for business, but it would be noth
ing but a frolic with me. I want to go
early in the morning, when the world
is fast asleep. Let me take.it tomor
row morning, will you?”
“Yes, of course you may." was the
hearty answer. “You may stay out as
long as you like. I always sleep lute
on Saturdays.”
So Prudence delightedly tripped up
the parsonage board walk, wheeling
the bicycle by her side. She hid it
carefully in the woodshed, for the
twins were rash and venturesome. But
after she had gone to bed, site con
fided her plan to Fairy.
“I’m going at six o’clock, and, Fairy,
If I am a little late, you’ll get break
fast for papa and The girls, like a flcu>.
won't you?”
l’niry promised. And early the next
morning Prudence, in rod sweater
jacket and cap, set out, upon lior secret
i ride. It was a magnificent morning.
1 and Prudence sang for pure delight as
site rode swiftly along the country
i roads, guided only by her own caprice.
She knew it was growing late, "but
Fairy’ll get breakfast,” she thought,
comfortably.
Finally she turned in a by-road lead
ing between two rich hickory groves.
I>ismounting at the top of a long hill,
she gazed anxiously around her. No
one was in sight. The nearest house
was two miles behind, and the road
was long and smooth and inviting,
and the hill was steep. Prudence
yearned for a good, soul-stirring coast,
with her feet high on the framework
of tile wheel, and the pedals living
around beneath her skirts. It seemed
safe. The only living thing in sight
was a sober-eyed, serious mule peace
fully grazing near the bottom of the
hill.
Prudence laughed gleefully, like a
child. She never laughed again in ex
actly that way. "Here goes!” she
cried, and. leaping nimbly into the
saddle, she pedaled swifily a few
limes, and then lifted ht*r feet to the
coveted position. The pedals flew
around beneath her, and the .wind
i whistled about her in a most exhila
rating way.
But as she neared the bottom the
I placid mule suddenly stalked into the
! middle of the road. Prudence screamed,
jerked the handlebar to the right, to
ilie left, and then, with a sickening ]
j thud, she struck the mule head first,
and bounced on down to the ground,
with a little cry of pain. The .bicycle
crashed beside her, and the mule,
slightly startled, looked around at her
with cars raised ill silent questioning.
Then he ambled slowly across the road,
and deliberately continued his grazing.
Prudence tried to raise herself, hut
■die fell sharp pairt. She heard some
one leaping over the fence near her.
and wondered, without moving her
head, if it could be a tramp bent on
highway robbery. The next instant a
man was leaning over her. "It's not
a tramp.” she thought, before he hud
time to speak.
•Arc you hurt' he cried. "You poor
child!”
1'rudcnce smiled pluckily. “My ankle
is hurt a little, hut I am not a child."
'J'he young man. in great relief,
laughed aloud, and Prudence joined
him rather faintly.
“I’m afraid I cannot walk,” she said.
‘‘I believe I’ve broken my ankle, inayhe
my whole leg, for all i know. It—
hurts—pretty badly !”
"Lie down like this," he said, helping
her to a more comfortable position, "do
not move. May T examine your foot?”
She shook her head, but lie removed
the shoe regardless of her headshake.
"I believe it is sprained. I am sure
ttie bone is not broken. But how in
the world will you get home? How far
is it to Mount Mark? Is that where
you live?”
“Yes”—considering — “yes, I live
there, and it must be four miles, any
how. What shall I do?”
In answer, he pulled off his coat, and
arranged it carefully by the side of the
road on the grass. Then jerking open
tile bag he hud carried, lit1 took out a
few towels, and three soft shirts.
Hastily rolling them together for a pil
low, lie added it to the bed pro tern.
Then lie turned again to Prudence.
"I’ll carry you over here, and tlx
you as comfortably as I can. Then I'll
go to the nearest house and get a
wagon to take you home.”
Prudence was not shy, and realizing
that his plan was the wise one, she
made no objections when he came to
help her across the road. “1 think 1
ran walk If you lift me up."
But the first movement sent such a
twinge of pain through tlie wounded
ankle that she clutched him frantically
and burst Into tears. "It hurts,” she
cried, “don’t touch me.”
Without speaking, lie lifted her as
gently as he could and carried her to
the place lie had prepared for her.
“Will you be warm enough?” hexasked,
after lie bad stood looking awkwardly
down upon the sobbing girl as long
as he could endure it.
“Yes,” nodded Prudence, gulping
down the big sol* rising in her throat.
“I’ll run. This confounded cross-cut
is so out of tin' way that no one will
pass here for hours, I supj .>so. Now
lie as comfortably as you can, and do
uot worry. I'm going to run,”
Off lie started, but Prudence, left
alone, was suddenly frightened.
“Please, oh, please,” she Called after
him, and when he came back site buried
her face in shame, deep in the linen
towel.
*Tm afraid,” she whispered, crying
again. “I do not wish to be left alone
here. A snake might come, or u
tramp.”
He sat down beside her. “You’re
nervous. I’ll stay with you until you
feel better. Someone may come this
way. but It isn't likely. I cut through
the hickory grove to save a mile. That’s
how T happened 1<> find yon.' He
smiled a little, and I’rndon<-t\ remein
the nature of her accident.
Ihislied. Then, being I'rudenee, she
laughed,
"H was my own fault. I had no bitsi
•m-ss to go coasting down like that. But
the mule was so stationary. It never
occurred to me that he contemplated
moving for the next century sit least,
lie was a hitter disappointment.” She
locked down the roadside where tin*
mule was contentedly grazing, with
never so much as a sympathetic glance
at his victim.
‘‘I’m afraid your bicycle is rather
■badly done up.”
“Oh—whatever will Mattie Moore
say to me? It's borrowed. Oh, I see
now, that it was just foolish pride that
made me unwilling to ride during de
cent hours. What a dunce I was—us
usual.”
He looked at her curiously. This was
beyond his comprehension. She ex
plained and then was silent a while.
“Fairy’ll have to get breakfast, and
-be always gets father's eggs too
hard.” Silence again. ‘‘Maybe papa’ll
worry. But then, they know by this
time that something always does hap
pen to me, so they'll he prepared.”
She turned gravely to the young
man beside tier. He was looking down
at her, too. And as their eyes met,
and clung for an instant, a slow, dark
color rose in his face. Prudence felt a
•nrious breathlessness—ea ised by her
hurtling ankle, undoubtedly.
“My name i.s i’rudenee Starr—I an*
'he Methodist minister's oldest daugh
ter.”
“And my name is Jerrold Harmer.”
He was looking away into ilie hickory
grove now. “My home is in Des
Moipes.”
“Oh, Des Moines is quite a city,
isn't it? I've heard quite a lot about
it. You might tell rue about Des
Moines. Is it very nice? Are there
lots of riel; people there? Of course,
l tto not really care any more about
rich people than the others, but it al
ways makes a city seem grand to have
a lot of rich citizens, I think. Don't
you ?”
So he told iter al-wut Des Moines,
and Prudence lay with her eyes half
closed, listening, and wondering why
there was more music in his voice than
in most voices. Her ankle did not
hurt very badly. She did not mind it
at all. In fact, she never gave it a
thought. From beneath her lids, she
kept her eyes fastened on Jerrold
llarmer’s long brown hands, clasped
loosely about his knees. And when
ever she could, she looked up into his
“Do Your Friends Call you Jerry?”
fact*. And always there was that cu
rious catching in her breath, anti she
looked away again quickly, feeling
that to look too long was dangerous.
“I have talked icy share now,” he
was saying, “tell me all about your
self, and the parsonage, and your fam
ily. ' And who is Fairy? And do you
attend the college at Mount Mark?
You look like a college girl.”
“Oh, 1 am not,” said Prudence, re
luctant to make the admission for the
lirst time in her life. “1 am too stupid
to be a college girl. I left high school
live years ago and have been keeping
bouse for ny father and sisters since
then. I am twenty years old. How j
old are you?”
“I am twenty-seven,” and he smiled. j
“Jerrold Hurmer,” she said slowly ,
an ! very musically. “It is such a nice 1
name. Do your friends cull you
J erry ?”
“The boys at school called me Rol
die, and sometimes Harnmie. Bat my
mother always called me .Jerry. She i
isn’t living now, either. You call me ,
Jerry, will you?"
“Yes, I will, but il won’t he proper. 1
But that ever makes any difference
to me, except when it might shock
the members. You want me to call
you Jerry, don’t you?''
“Y’es, I do. Ai d when we are better
acquainted, will you let me call you
Prudence?”
“Call me that now. I can’t he too
particular, you see, when 1 air. lying
on your coat and pillowed with your
belongings. You might get cr< *s. and
take them away from me. Did you j
go to college?"
“Yes, to Harvard, hut 1 was not
much of a student. Then 1 knocked
around a while, looking at the world,
an 1 two years ago 1 went home to
Dos Moines. I have been then ever
inee • xeept for little runs once in a
v Idle.”
Prudence sighed. “My sister Fairy
is going to college now, She’s very
clever—0)1, v»>ry. i oil'll like her, I nm
sure—-much bettor tluin you do me, of
■ course.” I'rudonco was .strangely
| downcast.
"I am sure I won't,” said Jerrnld
I fanner, with unnecessary vehemence.
“I don't care a thing for college girls.
1 like home girls.” Jerrnld flipped
over abruptly, and lay on the grass,
his face on his aims turned toward
her face. They were quiet for a while,
hut their glances were clinging.
“Bid you play football at college?
You are so tall. Fairy’s tall, too.
Fairy’s very grand looking. I've tried
my best to eat lots and exercise, and
make myself bigger, but—I am a
fizzle.”
“Yes, I played football. Tint girls
do not need to be so tall as m u. Don't
you remember what Orlando .-aid
about Rosalind—‘just as tall as my
heart?' 1 imagine ^'ou come about to
my shoulder. We ll measure as soon
as you are on your feet again."
“Are you going to live In Mount
Mark now? Are you coining to stay?”
I’rudence was almost quivering as she
asked tins. It was of vital Impor
tance.
“No, I will only be there a few days,
but I shall probably be back every
week or so. Is your father very strict?
Maybe he would object to your writing
to me.”
“Oh, he isn't strict at all. And lie
will be glad for me to write to you, I
Jiiiow. Is lies Moines just full of beau
tiful girls?”
“I should say net. I never saw a
real beautiful girl in Des Moines in
my life. Or any place else, for that
matter, until I came— You know when
you come right down to it, there are
mighty few girls that look—just the
way you want them to look.”
I’rudence nodded. “That’s the way
with men, too. Of all the men I have
seen in my life, I never saw one be
fore that looked just the way 1 want
ed him to.”
“Before?” he questioned eagerly.
“Yes,” said i’rudence frankly. “You
look just as X wish you to.”
CHAPTER IX
Father Starr Reads the Signs.
Ami ia the meanwhile, at the par
sonage, Fairy was patiently getting
: breakfast. “Prudence went out lor
an early bicycle ride, so the members
! Wouldn't catch her,” she explained to
' the family. "And she isn't hack yet.
i She'll probably stay out until after
: noon, and then ride right by the gro
cery store where tin- Ladies have their
Saturday sale. That's Prudence, all
i over. Oh, father, I did forget your
! eggs again, 1 am afraid they are too
j hard. Here, twins, you carry in the
j oatmeal, and we will eat. No use to
wait for I'rudcnce, it would he like
waiting for the next comet.”
Indeed, it was nearly noon when a
small, one-horse spring wagon drove
j into the parsonage yvrd. Mr. Starr
i was in his study with a book, but he
heard a piercing shriek from Connie,
and a shrill “Prudence!” from one of
the twins, lie was downstairs in three
leaps, and rushing wildly out to the
little rickety wagon. And there was
Prudence!
“Don’t bo frightened, father. I’ve
just sprained my ankle, and it doesn’t
hurt hardly any. Hut the bicycle is
broken, and we'll have to pay for it.
You can use my own money in the
bank. Poor Mr. Davis had to walk all
tin1 way to town, because there,wasn't
any room for him in the wagon with
me lying down like this. Will you
carry me in?"
Connie's single bed was hastily
brought downstairs, and Prudence de
posited upon it. “There’s no use to
put me upstairs,” she assured them.
won’t stay there. I want to he down
here where I can boss the girls.”
The doctor came in. and bandaged
the swollen purple ankle. Then they
had dinner—they tried to remember
to call it luncheon, hut never succeed
ed ! After that, the whole parsonage
family grouped about the liitle single
bed in Ihe cheery sitting room.
“Whose coat is this, Prudence?”
asked Connie.
“And where in the world did you
get these towels and silk shirts?” add
ed Fairy.
Prurience blushed most exquisitely. '
“They art* Mr. ilarnier’s,” she said, I
and glanced nervously at her father.
“Whose?" chorused the family.
“If you will sit down and keep still.
I will tell you all about it. But you
i lust not Interrupt me. What time is
it, Fairy?”
“Two o'clock.”
“Oh, two. Then I have plenty of
time,” and in her own frank way, she
told the story.
“Then Mr. Davis came along with
his cart,” she concluded, “and Jerry—
er—Mariner, you know, helped put me
in, and the cart was so small they both
had to waik.”
“Where is he now?” “Is he young?” I
“Is lie handsomeV” “Did he look rich?”
“Don't be silly, girls. He went U>
the hotel, I supp- se. Anyhow, he left
us as soon as we reached town. He
said he was in a hurry, and had some- 4
thing to look uftdr. His coat was uu- j
derneath me in the wagon, and he |
wouldn’t take it out for fear of hurt- !
ing my ankle, so the poor soul is ; m> -
ably wandcri; g around this town in his
shil't sleeves.”
Already, in the eyes of the girls, this
Jerry—er— Ha niter, had taker, unto
himself nll'the interest of the affair.
“He’ll have to come for ids coat,”
sal'! Lark. “We’re bound to see him.”
"Where does lie live? What was he
doing in the hickory grove?” inquired
Mr. Starr with a strangely sinking
heart, for her eyes were alight with
new and wonderful radiance.
“lie lives ill Des Moines. He was
just walking into town, and took u
short cut through the grove.”
“Walking 1 From Des Moines?"
Prudence flushed uncomfortably. “1
didn't 'think of that,” slip said. “But
I do rmt spp why ho should not walk
if ho likes. Hi>'s strong and athlotio,
and fond of exercise. I guess lie's
plonty ablo to walk if he wants to.
I'm sari- lu 's no tramp, father, if that
is what you tiro thinking.”
”1 am not thinking anything of the
kind. Prudence,” ho said with dignity.
"i!n! I do think it rather strange that
a young man should sot out to walk
Iron* lies Moines to Mount Mark. And
why should lie be til it so early iri the
morning? Ouesn't he require sleep, as
tin rest of us do?”
“How should I know? I guess if he
likes to he out in the morning when it
is fresh and sweet, it is all right. I
like the morning myself. He had as
much right out early as I had. Ilis
clot In s were nioe. and he is a Harvard
graduate, and his shoes were dusty,
but not soiled or worn. Anyhow, he
is coming at four o’clock. If you want
to ask if lie is a tramp, you can do it.”
And Prudence hurst into tears.
Ih'amatie silence in the cheerful sit
ting room! Then Fairy began hustling
about to bathe the face and throat of
“poor little Prudence,” and her father
ssiid sympathetically:
“You're till nervous and wrought up,
with tlio pain and excitement. Pru
dence. I'm glad he is coming so we
can thank him for Ids kindness. It
was mighty lucky he happened along,
wasn't it? A Harvard graduate! Yes,
they are pretty strong on athletics at
Harvard. You'd better straighten this
room a little and have things looking
nice when ho gels here,” said Father
St. it, with great diplomacy. And lie
was rewarded, and startled, by observ
ing Hmt Prudence h.'vflttened wonder
fully at bis words.
“Yes, do.” she urged eagerly. “Get
sunie of the roses from the corner
bush, and put them on the table there.
And when you go upstairs, Fairy, you'd
better bring down that little lace
spread in the bottom drawer of our
dresser. It’ll look very nice on this
bed. Work hard, girls, and get every
thing looking tine. He’ll lie here at
four, he said. You twins may wear
your white dresses, and Connie must
put on her blue and wear her blue
bows. Fairy, do you think it would lie
all right for you to wear your silk
dress? Of course, the silk is rather
grand for home, hut you do look so
beautiful in it. Father, will you put
on your black suit, or are you too busy?
And don’t forget to wear the pearl cut!
buttons Aunt Grace sent vou.”
He went upstairs to obey, with de
spair in his heart. But to the girls,
there was nothing strange in this ex
actness on ttie part of Prudence. Jer
rohl Marnier was the hero of the ro
mance, and they must unite to do him
honor. He was probably a prince in
disguise, .ferrold Mariner was a per
fectly thrilling name. It was really a
shame that America allows no titles—
Lord .lornild did sound so noble, and
Lady Prudence was very effective, too.
Me and Prudence word married, and
had a family of four children, named
for the various Starrs, before one hour
had passed.
"I’ll begin my book right away,”
Lark was saying. She and Carol were
in the dining room madly polishing
their Sunday shoes, what time they
were not performing the marriage cer
emony of their sister and the hero.
“Yes, do! But for goodness’ sake,
don't run her into a mule! Seems to
me even Prudence could have done bet
ter than that.”
“I'll have his automobile break down
in the middle of the road, and Pru
dence can run into it. The carburetor
came off, and of course the car
wouldn’t run tin inch without it.”
“Yes, that’s good,” said Carol ap
provingly. ‘T must be a sixty-cylin
der. eight horse power—er—tonneau
or something real big and costly.”
“Twins! You won’t he ready,”
warned Prudence, and this dire possi
bility sent them flying upstairs in a
panic.
"one tiie gins, miDming over with
excitement, were dressing for the great
event, Mr. Starr went downstairs to
sit with Prudence. Carol called to him
on ids way down, and he paused on
tiie staircase, looking tip at her.
“Lark and I are going to use some
of Fairy’s powder, father,” she said.
“We feel that we simply must on an
occasion like tl.is. And for goodness’
sake, don't mention it before him! It
doesn’t happen very often, you know,
hut today we simply must. Now. don’t
y< u say anything about falling in the
fl» ur barrel, or turning pale nil of a
sudden, whatever else you do. We'd
lie so mortified, father.”
Mr. Starr was concerned with
weightier matters, and went on down
to Prudence with never so much as a 1
reproving shake of the head for the
worldly-minded voimg twins.
“Father.” began Prudence, her eyes i
on the lace coverlet, “do you think it
would lie all right for me to wear that
silk dressing gown of in other’s? I
need something over my nightgown,
and i .y old dannel kimono is so ugly.
You know, mother said 1 was to have 1
it, and—I’m twenty now. I>o you think
it would lie all right? But if you do
not want me to wear it—”
“I do want you to,” was the prompt |
reply. “Yes, it is quite time you were
wearing it. I'll get it out of the trunk
myself, and send Fairy down to help
you.” Then as he turned toward the
door, he asked carelessly, “Is lie very
g i (1-1 aoking. Prudence?”
And Prudence, with a crimson face,
answered quickly, "Oh, 1 really didn't
notice, father.”
lie went on upstairs then, and pres-'
enlly Fairy came down with the dainty
silk gown trimmed with tine soft ince.
"I brought my lavender ribbon for your ,
hair. Prudence. it will mulch the
gown so nicely. Oh, you do look sweet,
dearest. 1 pity .lerrnld Mariner, i can i
tell you that. Now I must hurry umi I
finish my own Urcssiu*.’’
i
i'>ni with her foot on the bottom
stair, she paused. Her sister was call
in}; after her. “Send father down here,
quick, Fairy."
Father ran down quickly, and Pru
dence, catching hold of his hands,
whispered wretchedly, “Oh. father, he
—he is good-looking. I—I did notice
if. 1 didn’t really mean to lie to you.”
“There, now, Prudence,” he said,
kissing her tenderly, “you mustn’t get
exeited again. I’m afraid you are too
nervous to have callers. You must lie
very quietly until he comes. That was
no lie, child. You are so upset you do
not know what you are saying today.
He quiet now. Prudence, it’s nearly
time for him to come.”
“You are a dear good father,” she
cried, kissing his hands passionately,
“hut it was a lie. I did know what I
was saying. I did It on purpose.”
And Mr. Starr’s heart was heavy, for
he knew that his fears were realized.
CHAPTER X.
Roused From Her Slumber.
At twenty minutes to four, the par
sonage family clustered excitedly in
the sitting room, which the sunshine
flooded cheerily. They were waiting
for the hero of Prudence’s romance.
“Oh, Larkie, will you run upstairs
and bring nvv lace handkerchief?
W ouhl you keep these pearls on.
Fairy, or would you tuke them olT?"
“I would keep them on. Prue. You
do look so sweet, but your face is very
flushed. I iim afraid you ure feverish.
Maybe we had better not let him see
Prue today, father."
“Fairy !” exclaimed Prudence. “Lis
ten, listen, girls! Look, Fairy, and see
if that is lie! Yes, it is, I know—I
can tell by his walk.” Warm rbh
color dyed her face and throat, ‘and
she clasped her hands over her heart,
wondering if Connie beside her could
hear its tumult.
“I'll go to the door." said Father
Starr, and Prudence looked at him
beseechingly.
“I—I am sure he is all right, father.
I—you will be nice to him, won't yqu'!"
Without answering. Mr. Starr left
the room. lie could not trust his voice.
“Listen, girls, I want to hear.” whis
pered Prudence. And she smiled as
she heard her father’s cordial voice.
“You are Mr. Hnrmer, aren't you?
I am Prudence’s father. Come right
in. The whole family is assembled to
do you honor. The girls havetulieady
made you a prince in disguise. < Mine
back this way. Prudence is resting
very nicely.”
When the two men stepped into the
sitting room, Prudence, for once, quite
overlooked her father. She lifted her
eyes to .lerrold Hnrmer’s face, and
waited, breathless. Nor was lie long
“My Little Comrade of the Road."
in finding her among the bevy of girls.
He walked at once to the laid, and
took her hand.
“My little comrade of the road,’’ lie
sand gn.vly, but with tenderness. “I’m
afraid you are not feeling well enough
for callers today.”
“Oh, yes, I urn.” protested Prudence
with strange shyness.
He turned to the other girls, and
greeted them easily. He was entirely
self-possessed. “Miss Starr told me so
much about you that I know you all to
begin with.” He smiled at Fairy as
he added. “In fact, she 71 red let ed that
I am to fall in love with you. And so,
very likely, I should, if I hadn't met
your sister first.”
They ail laughed at that, and then
he walked back and stood by Prudenee
once more. “Was it a bad sprain?
Does it pain you very badly? You
look tired. 1 am afraid It wgs^an Im
position for me to come this after
noon."
“<>b. don't worry about that.” put in
Connie anxiously. “She wanted you
to eonie. Site’s been getting ns ready
for yon ever slnee tin* doctor left. I
think it was kind of siilv for me to
wear my idue just for one caller.”
The twins glared at her, realizing
that she was discrediting the parson
age, hut Jerrold Huriuer laughed, and
Prudence joined him
(Continued Next Week.) 7
“Is your hoy Josh going to stay on
the farm?" “I'm afraid so,” replied
Farmer Corntossel. “I've bought him
till the stories 1 could find about boys
who run away an' eonie back on
Christinas eve with money enough to
pay off the mortgage. But he doesn't
Bccm to take any of ’em to heart,'* '
Useless Suggestion.
i