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PRUDENCE SAYS SO
by
ETHEL HUESTON
Author of
Prudence of the Parsonage
With Illustrations by Arthur William Brown
[Illustration: Come on. Let's beat it]
New York
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers
Copyright 1916
The Bobbs-Merrill Company
_To_
MY LITTLE DAUGHTER
ELIZABETH
MY COMRADE AND MY
INSPIRATION
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I THE CHAPERON 1
II SCIENCE AND HEALTH 19
III A GIFT FROM HEAVEN 39
IV HOW CAROL SPOILED THE WEDDING 58
V THE SERENADE 80
VI SUBSTITUTION 95
VII MAKING MATCHES 114
VIII LARK'S LITERARY VENTURE 130
IX A CLEAR CALL 154
X JERRY JUNIOR 179
XI THE END OF FAIRY 193
XII SOWING SEEDS 209
XIII THE CONNIE PROBLEM 222
XIV BOOSTING CONNIE 238
XV A MILLIONAIRE'S SON 252
XVI THE TWINS HAVE A PROPOSAL 277
XVII THE GIRL WHO WOULDN'T PROPOSE 297
PRUDENCE SAYS SO
CHAPTER I
THE CHAPERON
"Girls,--come down! Quick!--I want to see how you look!"
Prudence stood at the foot of the stairs, deftly drawing on her black
silk gloves,--gloves still good in Prudence's eyes, though Fairy had
long since discarded them as unfit for service. There was open anxiety
in Prudence's expression, and puckers of worry perpendicularly creased
her white forehead.
"Girls!" she called again. "Come down! Father, you'd better hurry,--it's
nearly train time. Girls, are you deaf!"
Her insistence finally brought response. A door opened in the hallway
above, and Connie started down the stairs, fully dressed, except that
she limped along in one stocking-foot, her shoe in her hand.
"It's so silly of you to get all dressed before you put on your shoes,
Connie," Prudence reproved her as she came down. "It wrinkles you up so.
But you do look nice. Wasn't it dear of the Ladies' Aid to give you that
dress for your birthday? It's so dainty and sweet,--and goodness knows
you needed one. They probably noticed that. Let me fix your bow a
little. Do be careful, dear, and don't get mussed before we come back.
Aunt Grace will be so much gladder to live with us if we all look sweet
and clean. And you'll be good, won't you, Connie, and--Twins, will you
come!"
"They are sewing up the holes in each other's stockings," Connie
vouchsafed. "They're all dressed."
The twins, evidently realizing that Prudence's patience was near the
breaking point, started down-stairs for approval, a curious procession.
All dressed as Connie had said, and most charming, but they walked close
together, Carol stepping gingerly on one foot and Lark stooping low,
carrying a needle with great solicitude,--the thread reaching from the
needle to a small hole on Carol's instep.
"What on earth are you doing?"
"I'm sewing up the holes in Carol's stocking," Lark explained. "If you
had waited a minute I would have finished--Hold still, Carol,--don't
walk so jerky or you'll break the thread. There were five holes in her
left stocking, Prudence, and I'm--"
Prudence frowned disapprovingly. "It's a very bad habit to sew up holes
in your stockings when you are wearing them. If you had darned them all
yesterday as I told you, you'd have had plenty of--Mercy, Lark, you
have too much powder on!"
"I know it,--Carol did it. She said she wanted me to be of an
intellectual pallor." Lark mopped her face with one hand.
"You'd better not mention to papa that we powdered to-day," Carol
suggested. "He's upset. It's very hard for a man to be reasonable when
he's upset, you know."
"You look nice, twins." Prudence advanced a step, her eyes on Carol's
hair, sniffing suspiciously. "Carol, did you curl your hair?"
Carol blushed. "Well, just a little," she confessed. "I thought Aunt
Grace would appreciate me more with a crown of frizzy ringlets."
"You'll spoil your hair if you don't leave it alone, and it will serve
you right, too. It's very pretty as it is naturally,--plenty curly
enough and--Oh, Fairy, I know Aunt Grace will love you," she cried
ecstatically. "You look like a dream, you--"
"Yes,--a nightmare," said Carol snippily. "If I saw Fairy coming at me
on a dark night I'd--"
"Papa, we'll miss the train!" Then as he came slowly down the stairs,
she said to her sisters again, anxiously: "Oh, girls, do keep nice and
clean, won't you? And be very sweet to Aunt Grace! It's so--awfully good
of her--to come--and take care of us,--" Prudence's voice broke a
little. The admission of another to the parsonage mothering hurt her.
Mr. Starr stopped on the bottom step, and with one foot as a pivot,
slowly revolved for his daughters' inspection.
"How do I look?" he demanded. "Do you think this suit will convince
Grace that I am worth taking care of? Do I look twenty-five dollars
better than I did yesterday?"
The girls gazed at him with most adoring and exclamatory approval.
"Father! You look perfectly grand!--Isn't it beautiful?--Of course, you
looked nicer than anybody else even in the old suit, but--it--well, it
was--"
"Perfectly disgracefully shabby," put in Fairy quickly. "Entirely
unworthy a minister of your--er--lovely family!"
"I hope none of you have let it out among the members how long I wore
that old suit. I don't believe I could face my congregation on Sundays
if I thought they were mentally calculating the wearing value of my
various garments.--We'll have to go, Prudence.--You all look very
fine--a credit to the parsonage--and I am sure Aunt Grace will think us
well worth living with."
"And don't muss the house up," begged Prudence, as her father opened the
door and pushed her gently out on the step.
The four sisters left behind looked at one another solemnly. It was a
serious business,--most serious. Connie gravely put on her shoe, and
buttoned it. Lark sewed up the last hole in Carol's stocking,--Carol
balancing herself on one foot with nice precision for the purpose. Then,
all ready, they looked at one another again,--even more solemnly.
"Well," said Fairy, "let's go in--and wait."
Silently the others followed her in, and they all sat about,
irreproachably, on the well-dusted chairs, their hands folded
Methodistically in their smooth and spotless laps.
The silence, and the solemnity, were very oppressive.
"We look all right," said Carol belligerently.
No one answered.
"I'm sure Aunt Grace is as sweet as anybody could be," she added
presently.
Dreary silence!
"Don't we love her better than anybody on earth,--except ourselves?"
Then, when the silence continued, her courage waned. "Oh, girls," she
whimpered, "isn't it awful? It's the beginning of the end of everything.
Outsiders have to come in now to take care of us, and Prudence'll get
married, and then Fairy will, and maybe us twins,--I mean, we twins. And
then there'll only be father and Connie left, and Miss Greet, or some
one, will get ahead of father after all,--and Connie'll have to live
with a step-mother, and--it'll never seem like home any more, and--"
Connie burst into loud and mournful wails.
"You're very silly, Carol," Fairy said sternly. "Very silly, indeed. I
don't see much chance of any of us getting married very soon. And
Prudence will be here nearly a year yet. And--Aunt Grace is as sweet and
dear a woman as ever lived--mother's own sister--and she loves us dearly
and--"
"Yes," agreed Lark, "but it's not like having Prudence at the head of
things."
"Prudence will be at the head of things for nearly a year, and--I think
we're mighty lucky to get Aunt Grace. It's not many women would be
willing to leave a fine stylish home, with a hundred dollars to spend on
just herself, and with a maid to wait on her, and come to an ugly old
house like this to take care of a preacher and a riotous family like
ours. It's very generous of Aunt Grace--very."
"Yes, it is," admitted Lark. "And as long as she was our aunt with her
fine home, and her hundred dollars a month, and her maid, I loved her
dearly. But--I don't want anybody coming in to manage us. We can manage
ourselves. We--"
"We need a chaperon," put in Fairy deftly. "She isn't going to do the
housework, or the managing, or anything. She's just our chaperon. It
isn't proper for us to live without one, you know. We're too young. It
isn't--conventional."
"And for goodness' sake, Connie," said Carol, "remember and call her our
chaperon, and don't talk about a housekeeper. There's some style to a
chaperon."
"Yes, indeed," said Fairy cheerfully. "And she wears such pretty
clothes, and has such pretty manners that she will be a distinct
acquisition to the parsonage. We can put on lots more style, of course.
And then it was awfully nice of her to send so much of her good
furniture,--the piano, for instance, to take the place of that old tin
pan of ours."
Carol smiled a little. "If she had written, 'Dear John: I can't by any
means live in a house with furniture like that of yours, so you'll have
to let me bring some of my own,'--wouldn't we have been furious? That
was what she meant all right, but she put it very neatly."
"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.
[Illustration: We love you, but we can't kiss you]
"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!"