Prudence of the Parsonage Part 22

CHAPTER IX

PRACTISING ECONOMY

It was a dull dreary day early in December. Prudence and Fairy were sewing in the bay window of the sitting-room.

"We must be sure to have all the sc.r.a.ps out of the way before Connie gets home," said Prudence, carefully fitting together pieces of a dark, warm, furry material. "It has been so long since father wore this coat, I am sure she will not recognize it."

"But she will ask where we got it, and what shall we say?"

"We must tell her it is goods we have had in the house for a long time.

That is true. And I made this fudge on purpose to distract her attention. If she begins to ask questions, we must urge her to have more candy. Poor child!" she added very sympathetically. "Her heart is just set on a brand-new coat. I know she will be bitterly disappointed. If the members would just pay up we could get her one.

November and December are such bad months for parsonage people. Coal to buy, feed for the cow and the horse and the chickens, and Carol's sickness, and Larkie's teeth! Of course, those last are not regular winter expenses, but they took a lot of money this year. Every one is getting ready for Christmas now, and forgets that parsonage people need Christmas money, too. November and December are always my bitter months, Fairy,--bitter months!"

Fairy took a pin from her mouth. "The velvet collar and cuffs will brighten it up a good bit. It's really a pretty material. I have honestly been ashamed of Connie the last few Sundays. It was so cold, and she wore only that little thin summer jacket. She must have been half frozen."

"Oh, I had her dressed warmly underneath, very warmly indeed," declared Prudence. "But no matter how warm you are underneath, you look cold if you aren't visibly prepared for winter weather. It's a fortunate thing the real cold weather was so slow in coming. I kept hoping enough money would come in to buy her a coat for once in her life."

"She has been looking forward to one long enough," put in Fairy. "This will be a bitter blow to her. And yet it is not such a bad-looking coat, after all." And she quickly ran up a seam on the machine.

"Here comes Connie!" Prudence hastily swept a pile of sc.r.a.ps out of sight, and turned to greet her little sister with a cheery smile.

"Come on in, Connie," she cried, with a brightness she did not feel.

"Fairy and I are making you a new coat. Isn't it pretty? And so warm!

See the nice velvet collar and cuffs. We want to fit it on you right away, dear."

Connie picked up a piece of the goods and examined it intently.

"Don't you want some fudge, Connie?" exclaimed Fairy, shoving the dish toward her hurriedly.

Connie took a piece from the plate, and thrust it between her teeth.

Her eyes were still fastened upon the brown furry cloth.

"Where did you get this stuff?" she inquired, as soon as she was able to speak.

"Oh, we've had it in the house quite a while," said Prudence, adding swiftly, "Isn't it warm, Connie? Oh, it does look nice, doesn't it, Fairy? Do you want it a little shorter, Connie, or is that about right?"

"About right, I guess. Did you ever have a coat like this, Prudence?

I don't seem to remember it.'"

"Oh, no, it wasn't mine. Take some more candy, Connie. Isn't it good?--Let's put a little more fullness in the sleeves, Fairy. It's more stylish this year.--The collar fits very nicely. The velvet gives it such a rich tone. And brown is so becoming to you."

"Thanks," said Connie patiently. "Was this something of yours, Fairy?"

"Oh, no, we've just had it in the house quite a while. It comes in very handy right now, doesn't it? It'll make you such a serviceable, stylish coat. Isn't it about time for the twins to get here, Prudence?

I'm afraid they are playing along the road. Those girls get more careless every day of their lives."

"Well, if this didn't belong to one of you, whose was it?" demanded Connie. "I know the twins never had anything like this. It looks kind of familiar to me. Where did it come from?"

"Out of the trunk in the garret, Connie. Don't you want some more fudge? I put a lot of nuts in, especially on your account."

"It's good," said Connie, taking another piece. She examined the cloth very closely. "Say, Prudence, isn't this that old brown coat of father's?"

Fairy shoved her chair back from the machine, and ran to the window.

"Look, Prue," she cried. "Isn't that Mrs. Adams coming this way? I wonder----"

"No, it isn't," answered Connie gravely. "It's just Miss Avery getting home from school.--Isn't it, Prudence? Father's coat, I mean?"

"Yes, Connie, it is," said Prudence, very, very gently. "But no one here has seen it, and it is such nice cloth,--just exactly what girls are wearing now."

"But I wanted a new coat!" Connie did not cry. She stood looking at Prudence with her wide hurt eyes.

"Oh, Connie, I'm just as sorry as you are," cried Prudence, with starting tears. "I know just how you feel about it, dearest. But the people didn't pay father up last month, and nothing has come in for this month yet, and we've had so much extra expense.--I will have to wear my old shoes, too, Connie, and you know how they look! The shoemaker says they aren't worth fixing, so I must wear them as they are.--But maybe after Christmas we can get you a coat. They pay up better then."

"I think I'd rather wear my summer coat until then," said Connie soberly.

"Oh, but you can't, dearest. It is too cold. Won't you be a good girl now, and not make sister feel badly about it? It really is becoming to you, and it is nice and warm. You know parsonage people just have to practise economy, Connie,--it can't be helped. Take some more fudge, dear, and run out-of-doors a while. You'll feel better about it presently, I'm sure."

Connie stood solemnly beside the table, her eyes still fastened on the coat, cut down from her father's. "Can I go and take a walk?" she asked finally.

"May I, you mean," suggested Fairy.

"Yes, may I? Maybe I can reconcile myself to it."

"Yes, do go and take a walk," urged Prudence promptly, eager to get the small sober face beyond her range of vision.

"If I am not back when the twins get home, go right on and eat without me. I'll come back when I get things straightened out in my mind."

When Connie was quite beyond hearing, Prudence dropped her head on the table and wept. "Oh, Fairy, if the members just knew how such things hurt, maybe they'd pay up a little better. How do they expect parsonage people to keep up appearances when they haven't any money?"

"Oh, now, Prue, you're worse than Connie! There's no use to cry about it. Parsonage people have to find happiness in spite of financial misery. Money isn't the first thing with folks like us."

"No, but they have pledged it," protested Prudence, lifting her tear-stained face. "They must know we are counting on the money. Why don't they keep their pledges? They pay their meat bills, and grocery bills, and house rent! Why don't they pay for their religion?"

"Now, Prue, you know how things go. Mrs. Adams is having a lot of Christmas expense, and she thinks her four dollars a month won't really be missed. She thinks she will make it up along in February, when Christmas is over. But she forgets that Mrs. Barnaby with two dollars, and Mrs. Scott with five, and Mr. Walter with seven, and Mr. Holmes with three, and about thirty others with one dollar each, are thinking the same thing! Each member thinks for himself, and takes no account of the others. That's how it happens."

Prudence squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. "I wish you wouldn't mention names, Fairy," she begged. "I do not object to lumping them in a body and wondering about them. But I can't feel right about calling them out by name, and criticizing them.--Besides, we do not really know which ones they are who did not pay."

"I was just giving names for ill.u.s.trative purposes," said Fairy quickly. "Like as not, the very ones I named are the ones who did pay."

"Well, get this stuff out of the way, and let's set the table. Somehow I can't bear to touch it any more. Poor little Connie! If she had cried about it, I wouldn't have cared so much. But she looked so--heartsick, didn't she, Fairy?"

Connie certainly was heartsick. More than that, she was a little disgusted. She felt herself aroused to take action. Things had gone too far! Go to church in her father's coat she could not! But they hadn't the money. If Connie's father had been at home, perhaps they might have reasoned it out together. But he had left town that morning, and would not be home until Sat.u.r.day evening,--too late to get a coat in time for Sunday, and Prudence had said that Connie must be coated by Sunday! She walked st.u.r.dily down the street toward the "city,"--ironically so called. Her face was stony, her hands were clenched. But finally she brightened. Her lagging steps quickened.

She skipped along quite cheerfully. She turned westward as she reached the corner of the Square, and walked along that business street with shining eyes. In front of the First National Bank she paused, but after a few seconds she pa.s.sed by. On the opposite corner was another bank. When she reached it, she walked in without pausing, and the ma.s.sive door swung behind her. Standing on tiptoe, she confronted the cashier with a grave face.

"Is Mr. Harold in?" she asked politely.