Prudence of the Parsonage Part 2

"Yes, I dream," interrupted Prudence, "I dream lots,--but it's mostly of what Fairy and the others will do when I get them properly raised.

You'll like the girls, Mrs. Adams, I know you will. They really are a gifted little bunch,--except me. But I don't mind. It's a great honor for me to have the privilege of bringing up four clever girls to do great things,--don't you think? And I'm only nineteen myself! I don't see what more a body could want."

"It seems to me," said Mrs. Adams, "that I know more about your sisters than I do about you. I feel more acquainted with them right now, than with you."

"That's so, too," said Prudence, nodding. "But they are the ones that really count, you know. I'm just common little Prudence of the Parsonage,--but the others!" And Prudence flung out her hands dramatically.

CHAPTER II

THE REST OF THE FAMILY

It was Sat.u.r.day morning when the four young parsonage girls arrived in Mount Mark. The elderly Misses Avery, next door, looked out of their windows, pending their appearance on Main Street, with interest and concern. It was a serious matter, this having a whole parsonage-full of young girls so close to the old Avery mansion. To be sure, the Averys had a deep and profound respect for ministerial households, but they were Episcopalians themselves, and in all their long lives they had never so much as heard of a widower-rector with five daughters, and no housekeeper. There was something blood-curdling in the bare idea.

The Misses Avery considered Prudence herself rather a sweet, silly little thing.

"You have some real nice people in the Methodist church," Miss Dora had told her. "I dare say you will find a few of them very likeable."

"Oh, I will like them all," said Prudence quickly and seriously.

"Like them all!" echoed Miss Dora. "Oh, impossible!"

"Not for us," said Prudence. "We are used to it, you know. We always like people."

"That is ridiculous," said Miss Dora. "It is absolutely impossible. One can't! Of course, as Christians, we must tolerate, and try to help every one. But Christian tolerance and love are----"

"Oh, excuse me, but--really I can't believe there is such a thing as Christian tolerance," said Prudence firmly. "There is Christian love, and--that is all we need." Then leaning forward: "What do you do, Miss Avery, when you meet people you dislike at very first sight?"

"Keep away from them," was the grim reply.

"Exactly! And keep on disliking them," said Prudence triumphantly.

"It's very different with us. When we dislike people at first sight, we visit them, and talk to them, and invite them to the parsonage, and entertain them with our best linen and silverware, and keep on getting friendlier and friendlier, and--first thing you know, we like them fine!

It's a perfectly splendid rule, and it has never failed us once. Try it, Miss Avery, do! You will be enthusiastic about it, I know."

So the Misses Avery concluded that Prudence was very young, and couldn't seem to quite outgrow it! She was not entirely responsible. And they wondered, with something akin to an agony of fear, if the younger girls "had it, too!" Therefore the Misses Avery kept watch at their respective windows, and when Miss Alice cried excitedly, "Quick! Quick! They are coming!" they trooped to Miss Alice's window with a speed that would have done credit to the parsonage girls themselves. First came the minister, whom they knew very well by this time, and considered quite respectable.

He was lively, as was to be expected of a Methodist minister, and told jokes, and laughed at them! Now, a comical rector,--oh, a very different matter,--it wasn't done, that's all! At any rate, here came the Methodist minister, laughing, and on one side of him tripped a small earnest-looking maiden, clasping his hand, and gazing alternately up into his face, and down at the stylish cement sidewalk beneath her feet. On the other side, was Fairy. The Misses Avery knew the girls by name already,--having talked much with Prudence.

"Such a Fairy!" gasped Miss Millicent, and the others echoed the gasp, but wordlessly.

For Fairy for very nearly as tall as her father, built upon generous lines, rather commanding in appearance, a little splendid-looking. Even from their windows they could discern something distinctly Juno-like in this sixteen-year-old girl, with the easy elastic stride that matched her father's, and the graceful head, well carried. A young G.o.ddess,--named Fairy!

Behind them, laughing and chattering, like three children, as they were,--came the twins with Prudence, each with an arm around her waist.

And Prudence was very little taller than they. When they reached the fence that bordered the parsonage, the scene for a moment resembled a miniature riot. The smaller girls jumped and exclaimed, and clasped their hands. Fairy leaned over the fence, and stared intently at this, their parsonage home. Then the serious little girl scrambled under the fence, followed closely by the lithe-limbed twins. A pause, a very short one,--and then Prudence, too, was wriggling beneath the fence.

"Hold the wire up for me, papa," cried Fairy, "I'm too fat." And a second later she was running gracefully across the lawn toward the parsonage. The Methodist minister laughed boyishly, and placing his hands on the fence-post, he vaulted lightly over, and reached the house with his daughters. Then the Misses Avery, school-teachers, and elderly, looked at one another.

"Did you ever?" whispered the oldest Miss Avery, and the others slowly shook their heads.

Now, think! Did you ever see a rector jumping a three-wire fence, and running full speed across his front yard, in pursuit of a flying family?

It may possibly have occurred,--we have never seen it. Neither had the Misses Avery. Nor did they ever expect to. And if they had seen it, it is quite likely they would have joined the backsliders at that instant.

But without wasting much time on this gruesome thought, they hurried to a window commanding the best view of the parsonage, and raised it. Then they cl.u.s.tered behind the curtains, and watched, and listened. There was plenty to hear! From the parsonage windows came the sound of scampering feet and banging doors. Once there was the unmistakable clatter of a chair overturned. With it all, there was a constant chorus of "Oh, look!" "Oh! Oh!" "Oh, how sweet!" "Oh, papa!" "Oh, Prudence!"

"Look, Larkie, look at this!"

Then the thud of many feet speeding down the stairs, and the slam of a door, and the slam of a gate. The whole parsonage-full had poured out into the back yard, and the barn-lot. Into the chicken coop they raced, the minister ever close upon their heels. Over the board fence they clambered to the big rambling barn, and the wide door swung closed after them. But in a few seconds they were out once more, by the back barn door, and over the fence, and on to the "field." There they closed ranks, with their arms recklessly around whoever was nearest, and made a thorough tour of the bit of pasture-land. For some moments they leaned upon the dividing fence and gazed admiringly into the rich orchard and vineyard of the Avery estate. But soon they were skipping back to the parsonage again, and the kitchen door banged behind them.

Then the eldest Miss Avery closed the window overlooking the parsonage and confronted her sisters.

"We must just make the best of it," she said quietly.

But next door, the gray old ugly parsonage was full to overflowing with satisfaction and happiness and love.

The Starrs had never had an appointment like this before. They had just come from the village of Exminster, of five hundred inhabitants. There the Reverend Mr. Starr had filled the pulpits of three small Methodist churches, scattered at random throughout the country,--consideration, five hundred dollars. But here,--why, Mount Mark had a population of fully three thousand, and a business academy, and the Presbyterian College,--small, to be sure, but the name had a grand and inspiring sound. And Mr. Starr had to fill only one pulpit! It was heavenly, that's what it was. To be sure, many of his people lived out in the country, necessitating the upkeep of a horse for the sake of his pastoral work, but that was only an advantage. Also to be sure, the Methodists in Mount Mark were in a minority, and an inferiority,--Mount Mark being a Presbyterian stronghold due to the homing there of the trim and orderly little college. But what of that? The salary was six hundred and fifty dollars and the parsonage was adorable! The parsonage family could see nothing at all wrong with the world that day, and the future was rainbow-tinted.

Every one has experienced the ecstatic creepy sensation of sleeping in a brand-new home. The parsonage girls reveled in the memory of that first night for many days. "It may be haunted for all we know," cried Carol deliciously. "Just think, Connie, there may be seven ghosts camped on the head of your bed, waiting----"

"Carol!"

When the family gathered for worship on that first Sabbath morning, Mr.

Starr said, as he turned the leaves of his well-worn Bible, "I think it would be well for you girls to help with the morning worship now. You need practise in praying aloud, and--so we will begin to-day. Connie and I will make the prayers this morning, Prudence and Carol to-morrow, and Fairy and Lark the next day. We will keep that system up for a while, anyhow. When I finish reading the chapter, Connie, you will make the first prayer. Just pray for whatever you wish as you do at night for yourself. I will follow you."

Connie's eyes were wide with responsibility during the reading of the chapter, but when she began to speak her voice did not falter. Connie had nine years of good Methodist experience back of her!

"Our Father, who art in Heaven, we bow ourselves before Thy footstool in humility and reverence. Thou art our G.o.d, our Creator, our Saviour.

Bless us this day, and cause Thy face to shine upon us. Blot out our transgressions, pardon our trespa.s.ses. Wash us, that we may be whiter than snow. Hide not Thy face from the eyes of Thy children, turn not upon us in wrath. Pity us, Lord, as we kneel here prostrate before Thy majesty and glory. Let the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts, be acceptable in Thy sight, O Lord, our strength and our Redeemer. And finally save us, an unbroken family around Thy throne in Heaven, for Jesus' sake. Amen."

This was followed by an electric silence. Prudence was biting her lips painfully, and counting by tens as fast as she could. Fairy was mentally going over the prayer, sentence by sentence, and attributing each pet.i.tion to the individual member in the old church at Exminster to whom it belonged. The twins were a little amazed, and quite proud. Connie was an honor to the parsonage,--but they were concerned lest they themselves should do not quite so well when their days came.

But in less than a moment the minister-father began his prayer. His voice was a little subdued, and he prayed with less fervor and abandon than usual, but otherwise things went off quite nicely. When he said, "Amen," Prudence was on her feet and half-way up-stairs before the others were fairly risen. Fairy stood gazing intently out of the window for a moment, and then went out to the barn to see if the horse was through eating. Mr. Starr walked gravely and soberly out the front door, and around the house. He ran into Fairy coming out the kitchen door, and they glanced quickly at each other.

"Hurry, papa," she whispered, "you can't hold in much longer! Neither can I!"

And together, choking with laughter, they hurried into the barn and gave full vent to their feelings.

So it was that the twins and Connie were alone for a while.

"You did a pretty good job, Connie," said Carol approvingly.

"Yes. I think I did myself," was the complacent answer. "But I intended to put in, 'Keep us as the apple of Thy eye, hold us in the hollow of Thy hand,' and I forgot it until I had said 'Amen.' I had a notion to put in a post-script, but I believe that isn't done."

"Never mind," said Carol, "I'll use that in mine, to-morrow."

It can not be said that this form of family worship was a great success.

The twins were invariably stereotyped, cut and dried. They thanked the Lord for the beautiful morning, for kind friends, for health, and family, and parsonage. Connie always prayed in sentences extracted from the prayers of others she had often heard, and every time with nearly disastrous effect.

But the days pa.s.sed around, and Prudence and Carol's turn came again.

Carol was a thoughtless, impetuous, impulsive girl, and her prayers were as nearly "verbal repet.i.tions" as any prayers could be. So on this morning, after the reading of the chapter, Carol knelt by her chair, and began in her customary solemn voice: