Prudence of the Parsonage Part 7

"Oh, Larkie!"

This was a prolonged wail.

"It's all right, Prue, honestly it is," urged Lark with pathetic solemnity. "We didn't do it for a joke. We're keeping him for a good purpose. Connie found him in the garden,--and--Carol said we ought to keep him for Professor Duke,--he asked us to bring him things to cut up in science, you remember. So we just shoved him into this shoe box, and--we thought we'd keep him in the bath-tub until morning. We did it for a good purpose, don't you see we did? Oh, Prudence!"

Prudence was horribly outraged, but even in that critical moment, justice insisted that Lark's arguments were sound. The professor had certainly asked the scholars to bring him "things to cut up." But a toad! A live one!--And the Ladies' Aid! Prudence shivered.

"I am sure you meant well, Larkie," she said in a low voice, striving hard to keep down the bitter resentment in her heart, "I know you did.

But you should not have brought that--that thing--into the house. Pick him up at once, and take him out-of-doors and let him go."

But this was not readily done. In spite of her shame and deep dismay, Lark refused to touch the toad with her fingers.

"I can't touch him, Prudence,--I simply can't," she whimpered. "We shoved him in with the broom handle before."

And as no one else was willing to touch it, and as the Ladies cl.u.s.tered together in confusion, and with much laughter, in the far corner of the other room, Prudence brought the broom and the not unwilling toad was helped to other quarters.

"Now go," said Prudence quickly, and Lark was swift to avail herself of the permission.

Followed a quiet hour, and then the Ladies put aside their sewing and walked about the room, chatting in little groups. With a significant glance to Fairy, Prudence walked calmly to the double doors between the dining-room and the sitting-room. The eyes of the Ladies followed her with interest and even enthusiasm. They were hungry. Prudence slowly opened wide the doors, and--stood amazed! The Ladies cl.u.s.tered about her, and stood amazed also. The dining-room was there, and the table!

But the appearance of the place was vastly different! The snowy cloth was draped artistically over a picture on the wall, the lowest edges well above the floor. The plates and trays, napkin-covered, were safely stowed away on the floor in distant corners. The kitchen scrub bucket had been brought in and turned upside down, to afford a fitting resting place for the borrowed punch bowl, full to overflowing with fragrant lemonade.

And at the table were three dirty, disheveled little figures, bending seriously over piles of mud. A not-unrecognizable Venus de Milo occupied the center of the table. Connie was painstakingly at work on some animal, a dog perhaps, or possibly an elephant. And----

The three young modelers looked up in exclamatory consternation as the doors opened.

"Oh, are you ready?" cried Carol. "How the time has flown! We had no idea you'd be ready so soon. Oh, we are sorry, Prudence. We intended to have everything fixed properly for you again. We needed a flat place for our modeling. It's a shame, that's what it is. Isn't that a handsome Venus? I did that!--If you'll just shut the door one minute, Prudence, we'll have everything exactly as you left it. And we're as sorry as we can be. You can have my Venus for a centerpiece, if you like."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "If you'll just shut the door one minute, Prudence, we'll have everything exactly as you left it."]

Prudence silently closed the doors, and the Ladies, laughing significantly, drew away.

"Don't you think, my dear," began Mrs. Prentiss too sweetly, "that they are a little more than you can manage? Don't you really think an older woman is needed?"

"I do not think so," cried Fairy, before her sister could speak, "no older woman could be kinder, or sweeter, or more patient and helpful than Prue."

"Undoubtedly true! But something more is needed, I am afraid! It appears that girls are a little more disorderly than in my own young days! Perhaps I do not judge advisedly, but it seems to me they are a little--unmanageable."

"Indeed they are not," cried Prudence loyally. "They are young, lively, mischievous, I know,--and I am glad of it. But I have lived with them ever since they were born, and I ought to know them. They are unselfish, they are sympathetic, they are always generous. They do foolish and irritating things,--but never things that are hateful and mean. They are all right at heart, and that is all that counts. They are not bad girls! What have they done to-day? They were exasperating, and humiliating, too, but what did they do that was really mean? They embarra.s.sed and mortified me, but not intentionally!

I can't punish them for the effect on me, you know! Would that be just or fair? At heart, they meant no harm."

It must be confessed that there were many serious faces among the Ladies. Some cheeks were flushed, some eyes were downcast, some lips were compressed and some were trembling. Every mother there was asking in her heart, "Did I punish my children just for the effect on me? Did I judge my children by what was in their hearts, or just by the trouble they made me?"

And the silence lasted so long that it became awkward. Finally Mrs.

Prentiss crossed the room and stood by Prudence's side. She laid a hand tenderly on the young girl's arm, and said in a voice that was slightly tremulous:

"I believe you are right, my dear. It is what girls are at heart that really counts. I believe your sisters are all you say they are. And one thing I am very sure of,--they are happy girls to have a sister so patient, and loving, and just. Not all real mothers have as much to their credit!"

CHAPTER IV

A SECRET SOCIETY

Carol and Lark, in keeping with their twin-ship, were the dearest of chums and comrades. They resembled each other closely in build, being of the same height and size. They were slender, yet gave a suggestion of st.u.r.diness. Carol's face was a delicately tinted oval, brightened by clear and sparkling eyes of blue. She was really beautiful, bright, attractive and vivacious. She made friends readily, and was always considered the "most popular girl in our crowd"--whatever Carol's crowd at the time might be. But she was not extremely clever, caring little for study, and with no especial talent in any direction. Lark was as nearly contrasting as any sister could be. Her face was pale, her eyes were dark brown and full of shadows, and she was a brilliant and earnest student. For each other the twins felt a pa.s.sionate devotion that was very beautiful, but ludicrous as well.

To them, the great rambling barn back of the parsonage was a most delightful place. It had a big cow-shed on one side, and horse stalls on the other, with a "heavenly" haymow over all, and with "chutes" for the descent of hay,--and twins! In one corner was a high dark crib for corn, with an open window looking down into the horse stalls adjoining.

When the crib was newly filled, the twins could clamber painfully up on the corn, struggle backward through the narrow window, and holding to the ledge of it with their hands, drop down into the nearest stall. To be sure they were likely to fall,--more likely than not,--and their hands were splinter-filled and their heads blue-b.u.mped most of the time. But splinters and b.u.mps did not interfere with their pursuit of pleasure.

Now the twins had a Secret Society,--of which they were the founders, the officers and the membership body. Its name was Skull and Crossbones. Why that name was chosen perhaps even the twins themselves could not explain, but it sounded deep, dark and b.l.o.o.d.y,--and so was the Society. Lark furnished the brain power for the organization but her sister was an enthusiastic and energetic second. Carol's club name was Lady Gwendolyn, and Lark's was Sir Alfred Angelcourt ordinarily, although subject to frequent change. Sometimes she was Lord Beveling, the villain of the plot, and chased poor Gwendolyn madly through corn-crib, horse stalls and haymow. Again she was the dark-browed Indian silently stalking his unconscious prey. Then she was a fierce lion lying in wait for the approaching damsel. The old barn saw stirring times after the coming of the new parsonage family.

"Hark! Hark!" sounded a hissing whisper from the corn-crib, and Connie, eavesdropping outside the barn, shivered sympathetically.

"What is it! Oh, what is it?" wailed the unfortunate lady.

"Look! Look! Run for your life!"

Then while Connie clutched the barn door in a frenzy, there was a sound of rattling corn as the twins scrambled upward, a silence, a low thud, and an unromantic "Ouch!" as Carol b.u.mped her head and stumbled.

"Are you a.s.saulted?" shouted the bold Sir Alfred, and Connie heard a wild scuffle as he rescued his companion from the clutches of the old halter on which she had stumbled. Up the haymow ladder they hurried, and then slid recklessly down the hay-chutes. Presently the barn door was flung open, and the "Society" knocked Connie flying backward, ran madly around the barn a few times, and scurried under the fence and into the chicken coop.

A little later, Connie, a.s.sailed with shots of corncobs, ran bitterly toward the house. "Peaking" was strictly forbidden when the twins were engaged in Skull and Crossbones activities.

And Connie's soul burned with desire. She felt that this secret society was threatening not only her happiness, but also her health, for she could not sleep for horrid dreams of Skulls and Crossbones at night, and could not eat for envying the twins their secret and mysterious joys. Therefore, with unwonted humility, she applied for entrance. She had applied many times previously, without effect. But this time she enforced her application with a nickel's worth of red peppermint drops, bought for the very purpose. The twins accepted the drops gravely, and told Connie she must make formal application. Then they marched solemnly off to the barn with the peppermint drops, without offering Connie a share. This hurt, but she did not long grieve over it, she was so busy wondering what on earth they meant by "formal application." Finally she applied to Prudence, and received a.s.sistance.

The afternoon mail brought to the parsonage an envelope addressed to "Misses Carol and Lark Starr, The Methodist Parsonage, Mount Mark, Iowa," and in the lower left-hand corner was a suggestive drawing of a Skull and Crossbones. The eyes of the mischievous twins twinkled with delight when they saw it, and they carried it to the barn for prompt perusal. It read as follows:

"Miss Constance Starr humbly and respectfully craves admittance into the Ancient and Honorable Organization of Skull and Crossbones."

The twins pondered long on a fitting reply, and the next afternoon the postman brought a letter for Connie, waiting impatiently for it. She had approached the twins about it at noon that day.

"Did you get my application?" she had whispered nervously.

But the twins had stared her out of countenance, and Connie realized that she had committed a serious breach of secret society etiquette.

But here was the letter! Her fingers trembled as she opened it. It was decorated lavishly with skulls and crossbones, splashed with red ink, supposedly blood, and written in the same suggestive color.

"Skull and Crossbones has heard the plea of Miss Constance Starr. If she present herself at the Parsonage Haymow this evening, at eight o'clock, she shall learn the will of the Society regarding her pet.i.tion."

Connie was jubilant! In a flash, she saw herself admitted to the mysterious Barnyard Order, and began working out a name for her own designation after entrance. It was a proud day for her.

By the time the twins had finished washing the supper dishes, it was dark. Constance glanced out of the window apprehensively. She now remembered that eight o'clock was very, very late, and that the barn was a long way from the house! And up in the haymow, too! And such a mysterious b.l.o.o.d.y society! Her heart quaked within her. So she approached the twins respectfully, and said in an offhand way:

"I can go any time now. Just let me know when you're ready, and I'll go right along with you."

But the twins stared at her again in an amazing and overbearing fashion, and vouchsafed no reply. Connie, however, determined to keep a watchful eye upon them, and when they started barnward, she would trail closely along in their rear. It was a quarter to eight, and fearfully dark, when she suddenly remembered that they had been up-stairs an unnaturally long time. She rushed up in a panic. They were not there. She ran through the house. They were not to be found.

The dreadful truth overwhelmed her,--the twins were already in the haymow, the hour had come, and she must go forth.