Read Ebook: Prudence Says So by Hueston Ethel

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Ebook has 1046 lines and 57525 words, and 21 pages

"Yes. 'I love some of my things so dearly,'" Lark quoted promptly, "'and have lived with them so long that I am too selfish to part with them. May I bring a few pieces along?' Yes, it was pretty cute of her."

"And do remember, girls, that you mustn't ask her to darn your stockings, and wash your handkerchiefs, and do your tasks about the house. It would be disgraceful. And be careful not to hint for things you want, for, of course, Aunt Grace will trot off and buy them for you and papa will not like it. You twins'll have to be very careful to quit dreaming about silk stockings, for instance." There was a tinge of sarcasm in Fairy's voice as she said this.

"Fairy, we did dream about silk stockings--you don't need to believe it if you don't want to. But we did dream about them just the same!" Carol sighed. "I think I could be more reconciled to Aunt Grace if I thought she'd give me a pair of silk stockings. You know, Fairy, sometimes lately I almost--don't like Aunt Grace--any more."

"That's very foolish and very wicked," declared Fairy. "I love her dearly. I'm so glad she's come to live with us."

"Are you?" asked Connie innocently. "Then why did you go up in the attic and cry all morning when Prudence was fixing the room for her?"

Fairy blushed, and caught her under lip between her teeth for a minute. And then, in a changed voice she said, "I--I do love her, and--I am glad--but I keep thinking ahead to when Prudence gets married, and--and--oh, girls, Prudence was all settled in the parsonage when I was born, and she's been here ever since, and--when she is gone it--it won't be any home to me at all!"

Her voice rose on the last words in a way most pitifully suggestive of tears.

For a moment there was a stricken silence.

"Oh, pooh!" Carol said at last, bravely. "You wouldn't want Prue to stick around and be an old maid, would you? I think she's mighty lucky to get a fellow as nice as Jerry Harmer myself. I'll bet you don't make out half as well, Fairy. I think she'd be awfully silly not to gobble him right up while she has a chance. For my own part, I don't believe in old maids. I think it is a religious duty for folks to get married, and--and--you know what I mean,--race suicide, you know." She nodded her head sagely, winking one eye in a most intelligent fashion.

"And Aunt Grace is so quiet she'll not be any bother at all," added Lark. "Don't you remember how she always sits around and smiles at us, and never says anything. She won't scold a bit.--Maybe Carol and I will get a chance to spend some of our spending money when she takes charge. Prudence confiscates it all for punishment. I think it's going to be lots of fun having Aunt Grace with us."

"I'm going to take my dime and buy her something," Connie announced suddenly.

The twins whirled on her sharply. "Your dime!" echoed Carol.

"I didn't know you had a dime," said Lark.

Connie flushed a little. "Yes,--Oh, yes,--" she said, "I've got a dime. I--I hid it. I've got a dime all right."

"It's nearly time," said Fairy restlessly. "Number Nine has been on time for two mornings now,--so she'll probably be here in time for dinner. It's only ten o'clock now."

"You mean luncheon," suggested Carol.

"Yes, luncheon, to be sure, fair sister."

"Where'd you get that dime, Connie?"

"Oh, I've had it some time," Connie admitted reluctantly.

"When I asked you to lend me a dime you said--"

"You asked me if I had a dime I could lend you and I said, No, and I didn't, for I didn't have this dime to lend."

"But where have you had it?" inquired Lark. "I thought you acted suspicious some way, so I went around and looked for myself."

"Where did you look?"

The twins laughed gleefully. "Oh, on top of the windows and doors," said Carol.

"How did you know--" began Connie.

"You aren't slick enough for us, Connie. We knew you had some funny place to hide your money, so I gave you that penny and then I went up-stairs very noisily so you could hear me, and Lark sneaked around and watched, and saw where you put it. We've been able to keep pretty good track of your finances lately."

The twins laughed again.

"But I looked on the top ledge of all the windows and doors just yesterday," admitted Lark, "and there was nothing there. Did you put that dime in the bank?"

"Oh, never mind," said Connie. "I don't need to tell you. You twins are too slick for me, you know."

The twins looked slightly fussed, especially when Fairy laughed with a merry, "Good for you, Connie."

Carol rose and looked at herself in the glass. "I'm going up-stairs," she said.

"What for?" inquired Lark, rising also.

"I need a little more powder. My nose is shiny."

So the twins went up-stairs, and Fairy, after calling out to them to be very careful and not get disheveled, went out into the yard and wandered dolefully about by herself.

Connie meantime decided to get her well-hidden dime and figure out what ten cents could buy for her fastidious and wealthy aunt. Connie was in many ways unique. Her system of money-hiding was born of nothing less than genius, prompted by necessity, for the twins were clever as well as grasping. She did not know they had discovered her plan of banking on the top ledge of the windows and doors, but having dealt with them long and bitterly, she knew that in money matters she must give them the benefit of all her ingenuity. For the last and precious dime, she had discovered a brand-new hiding-place.

The cook stove sat in the darkest and most remote corner of the kitchen, and where the chimney fitted into the wall, it was protected by a small zinc plate. This zinc plate protruded barely an inch, but that inch was quite sufficient for coins the size of Connie's, and there, high and secure in the shadowy corner, lay Connie's dime. Now that she had decided to spend it, she wanted it before her eyes,--for ten cents in sight buys much more than ten cents in memory. She went into the kitchen cautiously, careful of her white canvas shoes, and put a chair beside the stove. She had discovered that the dishpan turned upside down on the chair, gave her sufficient height to reach her novel banking place. The preparation was soon accomplished, and neatly, for Connie was an orderly child, and loved cleanliness even on occasions less demanding than this.

But alas for Connie's calculations!--Carol was born for higher things than dish washing, and she had splashed soap-suds on the table. The pan had been set among them--and then, neatly wiped on the inside, it had been hung up behind the table,--with the suds on the bottom. And it was upon this same dishpan that Connie climbed so carefully in search of her darling dime.

The result was certain. As she slowly and breathlessly raised herself on tiptoe, steadying herself with the tips of her fingers lightly touching the stove-pipe, her foot moved treacherously into the soapy area, and slipped. Connie screamed, caught desperately at the pipe, and fell to the floor in a sickening jumble of stove-pipe, dishpan and soot beyond her wildest fancies! Her cries brought her sisters flying, and the sight of the blackened kitchen, and the unfortunate child in the midst of disaster, banished from their minds all memory of the coming chaperon, of Prudence's warning words:--Connie was in trouble. With sisterly affection they rescued her, and did not hear the ringing of the bell. They brushed her, they shook her, they kissed her, they all but wept over her. And when Prudence and her father, with Aunt Grace in tow, despaired of gaining entrance at the hands of the girls, came in unannounced, it was a sorry scene that greeted them. Fairy and the twins were only less sooty than Connie and the kitchen. The stove-pipe lay about them with that insufferable insolence known only to fallen stove-pipe. And Connie wept loudly, her tears making hideous trails upon her blackened face.

"I might have known it," Prudence thought, with sorrow. But her motherly pride vanished before her motherly solicitude, and Connie was soon quieted by her tender ministrations.

"We love you, Aunt Grace," cried Carol earnestly, "but we can't kiss you."

Mr. Starr anxiously scanned the surface of the kitchen table with an eye to future spots on the new suit, and then sat down on the edge of it and laughed as only a man of young heart and old experience can laugh!

"Disgraced again," he said. "Prudence said we made a mistake in not taking you all to the station where we could watch you every minute. Grace, think well before you take the plunge. Do you dare cast in your fortunes with a parsonage bunch that revels in misfortune? Can you take the responsibility of rearing a family that knows trouble only? This is your last chance. Weigh well your words."

The twins squirmed uncomfortably. True, she was their aunt, and knew many things about them. But they did think it was almost bad form for their father to emphasize their failings in the presence of any one outside the family.

Fairy pursed up her lips, puffing vainly at the soot that had settled upon her face. Then she laughed. "Very true, Aunt Grace," she said. "We admit that we're a luckless family. But we're expecting, with you to help us, to do much better. You see, we've never had half a chance so far, with only father behind us."

The twins revived at this, and joined in the laughter their father led against himself.

Later in the day Prudence drew her aunt to one side and asked softly, "Was it much of a shock to you, Aunt Grace? The family drowned in soot to welcome you? I'm sure you expected to find everything trim and fresh and orderly. Was it a bitter disappointment?"

Aunt Grace smiled brightly. "Why, no, Prudence," she said in her slow even voice. "I really expected something to be wrong! I'd have been disappointed if everything had gone just right!"

SCIENCE AND HEALTH

After all, the advent of a chaperon made surprisingly little difference in the life of the parsonage family, but what change there was, was all to the good. Their aunt assumed no active directorate over household matters. She just slipped in, happily, unobtrusively, helpfully. She was a gentle woman, smiling much, saying little. Indeed, her untalkativeness soon became a matter of great merriment among the lively girls.

"A splendid deaf and dumb person was lost to the world in you, Aunt Grace," Carol assured her warmly. "I never saw a woman who could say so much in smiles, and be so expressive without words."

Fairy said, "She carries on a prolonged discussion, and argues and orates, without saying a word."

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