Prudence of the Parsonage Part 18

"Oh, yes," laughed Fairy, "I'm remembering that, all right."

Then the twins went up-stairs, but not to their own room at once.

Instead they slipped noiselessly into the front bedroom, and a little later Carol came out into the hall and stood listening at the head of the stairs, as though on guard.

"Be sure and leave quite a few st.i.tches in, Lark," she whispered once.

"We want it to hang together until Babbie gets here."

That was all. Presently Lark emerged, and their own door closed behind them.

"It's a good thing father has to go to the trustees' meeting to-night, isn't it?" asked Carol. And Lark agreed, absently. She was thinking of the oysters.

As soon as they finished supper, Lark said, "Don't you think we'd better go right to bed, Prue? We don't want to taint the atmosphere of the parsonage. Of course, Fairy will want to wash the dishes herself to make sure they are clean and shining."

"Oh, no," disclaimed Fairy, still good-naturedly. "I can give an extra rub to the ones we want to use,--that is enough. I do appreciate the thought, though, thanks very much."

So the twins plunged in, carefully keeping Connie beside them. "She has such a full-to-overflowing look," said Carol. "If we don't keep hold of her, she'll let something bubble over." Connie had a dismal propensity for giving things away,--the twins had often suffered from it. To-night, they were determined to forestall such a calamity.

Then they all three went to bed. To be sure it was ridiculously early, but they were all determined.

"We feel weak under this unusual strain. Our nerves can't stand the tension. We really must retire to rest. Maybe a good night's sleep will restore us to normal," Lark explained gravely.

Fairy only laughed. "Good!" she cried. "Do go to bed. The only time I am sure of you is when you are in your beds. Do you mind if I tie you in, to make a.s.surance doubly sure?"

But the twins and Connie had disappeared.

"You keep your eyes open, Fairy," Prudence whispered melodramatically.

"Those girls do not look right. Something is hanging over our heads."

And she added anxiously, "Oh, I'll be so disappointed if things go badly. This is the first time we've ever lived up to etiquette, and I feel it is really a crisis."

Fairy was a little late getting up-stairs to dress, but she took time to drop into her sisters' room. They were all in bed, breathing heavily. She walked from one to another, and stood above them majestically.

"Asleep!" she cried. "Ah, Fortune is kind. They are asleep. How I love these darling little twinnies,--in their sleep!"

An audible sniff from beneath the covers, and Fairy, smiling mischievously, went into the front room to prepare for her caller.

The bell rang as she was dressing. Prudence went to the door, preternaturally ceremonious, and ushered Mr. Babler into the front room. She turned on the electric switch as she opened the door. She was too much impressed with the solemnity of the occasion to take much note of her surroundings, and she did not observe that the young man sniffed in a peculiar manner as he entered the room.

"I'll call Fairy," she said demurely.

"Tell her she needn't primp for me," he answered, laughing. "I know just how she looks already."

But Prudence was too heavily burdened to laugh. She smiled hospitably, and closed the door upon him. Fairy was tripping down the stairs, very tall, very handsome, very gay. She pinched her sister's arm as she pa.s.sed, and the front room door swung behind. But she did not greet her friend. She stood erect by the door, her head tilted on one side, sniffing, sniffing.

"What in the world?" she wondered. Then she blushed. Perhaps it was something he had used on his hair! Or perhaps he had been having his suit cleaned! "Oh, I guess it's nothing, after all," she stammered.

But Eugene Babler was strangely quiet. He looked about the room in a peculiar questioning way.

"Shall I raise a window?" he suggested finally. "It's rather--er--hot in here."

"Yes, do," she urged. "Raise all of them. It's--do you--do you notice a--a funny smell in here? Or am I imagining it? It--it almost makes me sick!"

"Yes, there is a smell," he said, in evident relief. "I thought maybe you'd been cleaning the carpet with something. It's ghastly. Can't we go somewhere else?"

"Come on." She opened the door into the sitting-room. "We're coming out here if you do not mind, Prue." And Fairy explained the difficulty.

"Why, that's very strange," said Prudence, knitting her brows. "I was in there right after supper, and I didn't notice anything. What does it smell like?"

"It's a new smell to me," laughed Fairy, "but something about it is strangely suggestive of our angel-twins."

Prudence went to investigate, and Fairy shoved a big chair near the table, waving her hand toward it lightly with a smile at Babbie. Then she sank into a low rocker, and leaned one arm on the table. She wrinkled her forehead thoughtfully.

"That smell," she began. "I am very suspicious about it. It was not at all natural----"

"Excuse me, Fairy," he said, ill at ease for the first time in her knowledge of him. "Did you know your sleeve was coming out?"

Fairy gasped, and raised her arm.

"Both arms, apparently," he continued, smiling, but his face was flushed.

"Excuse me just a minute, will you?" Fairy was unruffled. She sought her sister. "Look here, Prue,--what do you make of this? I'm coming to pieces! I'm hanging by a single thread, as it were."

Her sleeves were undoubtedly ready to drop off at a second's notice!

Prudence was shocked. She grew positively white in the face.

"Oh, Fairy," she wailed. "We are disgraced."

"Not a bit of it," said Fairy coolly. "I remember now that Lark was looking for the scissors before supper. Aren't those twins unique?

This is almost bordering on talent, isn't it? Don't look so distressed, Prue. Etiquette itself must be subservient to twins, it seems. Don't forget to bring in the stew at a quarter past nine, and have it as good as possible,--please, dear."

"I will," vowed Prudence, "I'll--I'll use cream. Oh, those horrible twins!"

"Go in and entertain Babbie till I come down, won't you?" And Fairy ran lightly up the stairs, humming a s.n.a.t.c.h of song.

But Prudence did a poor job of entertaining Babbie during her sister's absence. She felt really dizzy! Such a way to introduce Etiquette into the parsonage life. She was glad to make her escape from the room when Fairy returned, a graceful figure in the fine blue silk! She went back to the dining-room, and painstakingly arranged the big tray for the designated moment of its entrance,--according to etiquette. Fairy and Babbie in the next room talked incessantly, laughing often and long, and Prudence, hearing, smiled in sympathy. She herself thought it would be altogether stupid to be shut up in a room alone with "just a man" for a whole evening,--but etiquette required it. Fairy knew about such things, of course.

A little after nine, she called out dismally, "Fairy!" And Fairy, fearing fresh disaster, came running out.

"What now? What----"

"I forget what you told me to say," whispered Prudence wretchedly, "what was it? The soup is ready, and piping hot,--but what is it you want me to say?"

Fairy screamed with laughter. "You goose!" she cried. "Say anything you like. I was just giving you a tip, that was all. It doesn't make any difference what you say."

"Oh, I am determined to do my part just right," vowed Prudence fervently, "according to etiquette and all. What was it you said?"

Fairy stifled her laughter with difficulty, and said in a low voice, "Wouldn't you like a little nice, hot, oyster stew?" Prudence repeated it after her breathlessly.

So Fairy returned once more, and soon after Prudence tapped on the door. Then she opened it, and thrust her curly head inside. "Wouldn't you like a little nice, hot, oyster stew?" she chirped methodically.

And Fairy said, "Oh, yes indeed, Prudence,--this is so nice of you."