Prudence of the Parsonage Part 10

But that night when the twins went up to bed, they were doomed to disappointment. They had no chance of making it up with Constance.

For Prudence had moved her small bed out of the twins' room, and had placed it in the front room occupied by herself and Fairy. They asked if they might speak to Constance, but Prudence went in with them to say good night to her. The twins broke down and cried as they saw the pitiful little figure with the wan and tear-stained face. They threw their arms around her pa.s.sionately and kissed her many times. But they went to bed without saying anything.

Hours later, Lark whispered, "Carol! are you asleep?"

"No. I can't go to sleep somehow."

"Neither can I. Do you think we'd better tell Prudence all about it?"

Carol squirmed in the bed. "I--suppose we had," she said reluctantly.

"But--it'll be lots worse for us than for Connie," Lark added. "We're so much older, and we made her do it."

"Yes, and we ate all the apples," mourned Carol.

"Maybe we'd better just let it go," suggested Lark.

"And we'll make it up to Connie afterwards," said Carol.

"Now, you be careful and not give it away, Carol."

"You see that you don't."

But it was a sorry night for the twins. The next morning they set off to school, with no chance for anything but a brief good morning with Connie,--given in the presence of Prudence. Half-way down the parsonage walk, Carol said:

"Oh, wait a minute, Lark. I left my note-book on the table." And Lark walked slowly while Carol went rus.h.i.+ng back. She found Prudence in the kitchen, and whispered:

"Here--here's a note, Prudence. Don't read it until after I've gone to school,--at ten o'clock you may read it. Will you promise?"

Prudence laughed a little, but she promised, and laid the note carefully away to wait the appointed hour for its perusal. As the clock struck ten she went to the mantle, and took it down. This is what Carol had written:

"Oh, Prudence, do please forgive me, and don't punish Connie any more.

You can punish me any way you like, and I'll be glad of it. It was all my fault. I made her go and get the apples for me, and I ate them.

Connie didn't eat one of them. She said stolen apples would not taste very good. It was all my fault, and I'm so sorry. I was such a coward I didn't dare tell you last night. Will you forgive me? But you must punish me as hard as ever you can. But please, Prudence, won't you punish me some way without letting Lark know about it? Please, please, Prudence, don't let Larkie know. You can tell Papa and Fairy so they will despise me, but keep it from my twin. If you love me, Prudence, don't let Larkie know."

As Prudence read this her face grew very stern. Carol's fault! And she was ashamed to have her much-loved twin know of her disgrace. At that moment, Prudence heard some one running through the hall, and thrust the note hastily into her dress. It was Lark, and she flung herself wildly upon Prudence, sobbing bitterly.

"What is the matter, Lark?" she tried, really frightened. "Are you sick?"

"Heartsick, that's all," wailed Lark. "I told the teacher I was sick so I could come home, but I'm not. Oh, Prudence, I know you'll despise and abominate me all the rest of your life, and everybody will, and I deserve it. For I stole those apples myself. That is, I made Connie go and get them for me. She didn't want to. She begged not to. But I made her. She didn't eat one of them,--I did it. And she felt very badly about it. Oh, Prudence, you can do anything in the world to me,--I don't care how horrible it is; I only hope you will. But, Prudence, you won't let Carol know, will you? Oh, spare me that, Prudence, please. That's my last request, that you keep it from Carol."

Prudence was surprised and puzzled. She drew the note from her pocket, and gave it to Lark. "Carol gave me that before she went to school,"

she explained. "Read it, and tell me what you are driving at. I think you are both crazy. Or maybe you are just trying to s.h.i.+eld poor Connie."

Lark read Carol's note, and gasped, and--burst out laughing! The shame, and bitter weeping, and nervousness, had rendered her hysterical, and now she laughed and cried until Prudence was alarmed again.

In time, however, Lark was able to explain. "We both did it," she gasped, "the Skull and Crossbones. And we both told the truth about it. We made her go and get them for us, and we ate them, and she didn't want to go. I advised Carol not to tell, and she advised me not to. All the way to school this morning, we kept advising each other not to say a word about it. But I intended all the time to pretend I was sick, so I could come and confess alone. I wanted to take the punishment for both of us, so Carol could get out. I guess that's what she thought, too. Bless her little old heart, as if I'd let her he punished for my fault. And it was mostly my fault, too, Prue, for I mentioned the apples first of all."

Prudence laughed,--it was really ludicrous. But when she thought of loyal little Connie, sobbing all through the long night, the tears came to her eyes again. She went quickly to the telephone, and called up the school building next door to the parsonage.

"May I speak to Constance Starr, Mr. Imes?" she asked. "It is very important. This is Prudence, her sister." And when Connie came to the telephone, she cried, "Oh, you blessed little child, why didn't you tell me? Will you forgive me, Connie? I ought to have made you tell me all about it, but I was so sorry, I couldn't bear to talk much about it. The twins have told me. You're a dear, sweet, good little darling, that's what you are."

"Oh, Prudence!" That was all Connie said, but something in her voice made Prudence hang up the receiver quickly, and cry bitterly!

That noon Prudence p.r.o.nounced judgment on the sinners, but her eyes twinkled, for Carol and Lark had scolded each other roundly for giving things away!

"Connie should have refused to obey you," she said gently, holding Connie in her arms. "She knew it was wrong. But she has been punished more than enough. But you twins! In the first place, I right now abolish the Skull and Crossbones forever and ever. And you can not play in the barn again for a month. And you must go over to the Averys this afternoon, and tell them about it, and pay for the apples. And you must send all of your spending money for the next month to that woman who is gathering up things for the bad little children in the Reform School,--that will help you remember what happens to boys and girls who get in the habit of taking things on the spur of the moment!"

The twins accepted all of this graciously, except that which referred to confessing their sin to their neighbors. That did hurt! The twins were so superior, and admirable! They couldn't bear to ruin their reputations. But Prudence stood firm, in spite of their weeping and wailing. And that afternoon two shamefaced sorry girls crept meekly in at the Averys' door to make their peace.

"But about the Skull and Crossbones, it's mostly punishment for me, Prue," said Connie regretfully, "for the twins have been in it ever since we came to Mount Mark, and I never got in at all! And I wanted them to call me Lady Magdalina Featheringale." And Connie sighed.

CHAPTER V

THE TWINS STICK UP FOR THE BIBLE

Prudence had been calling on a "sick member." Whenever circ.u.mstances permitted she gladly served as pastoral a.s.sistant for her father, but she always felt that raising the family was her one big job, and nothing was allowed to take precedence of it. As she walked that afternoon down Maple Street,--seemingly so-called because it was bordered with grand old elms,--she felt at peace with all the world.

The very suns.h.i.+ne beaming down upon her through the huge skeletons of the leafless elms, was not more care-free than the daughter of the parsonage. Parsonage life had been running smoothly for as much as ten days past, and Prudence, in view of that ten days' immunity, was beginning to feel that the twins, if not Connie also, were practically reared!

"Mount Mark is a dear old place,--a duck of a place, as the twins would say,--and I'm quite sorry there's a five-year limit for Methodist preachers. I should truly like to live right here until I am old and dead."

Then she paused, and bowed, and smiled. She did not recognize the bright-faced young woman approaching, but she remembered just in time that parsonage people are marked characters. So she greeted the stranger cordially.

"You are Miss Starr, aren't you?" the bright-faced woman was saying.

"I am Miss Allen,--the princ.i.p.al of the high school, you know."

"Oh, yes," cried Prudence, thrusting forth her hand impulsively, "oh, yes, I know. I am so glad to meet you."

Miss Allen was a young woman of twenty-six, with clear kind eyes and a strong sweet mouth. She had about her that charm of manner which can only be described as winsome womanliness. Prudence gazed at her with open and honest admiration. Such a young woman to be the princ.i.p.al of a high school in a city the size of Mount Mark! She must be tremendously clever. But Prudence did not sigh. We can't all be clever, you know. There must be some of us to admire the rest of us!

The two walked along together, chatting sociably on subjects that meant nothing to either of them. Presently Miss Allen stopped, and with a graceful wave of her hand, said lightly:

"This is where I am rooming. Are you in a very great hurry this afternoon? I should like to talk to you about the twins. Will you come in?"

The spirits of Prudence fell earthward with a clatter! The twins!

Whatever had they been doing now?

She followed Miss Allen into the house and up the stairs with the joy quite quenched in her heart. She did not notice the dainty room into which she was conducted. She ignored the offered chair, and with a dismal face turned toward Miss Allen.

"Oh, please! What have they been doing? Is it very awful?"

Miss Allen laughed gaily. "Oh, sit down and don't look so distressed.

It's nothing at all. They haven't been doing anything. I just want to discuss them on general principles, you know. It's my duty to confer with the parents and guardians of my scholars."

Immensely relieved, Prudence sank down in the chair, and rocked comfortably to and fro a few times. General principles,--ah, blessed words!