Little Prudys Sister Susy | Page 3

Prudy Parlin; and if you don't take care we'll
wake everybody up.--'Sh! 'Sh!"
"Mine's pinned on," said Prudy; "and I've pricked my fingers. O deary
me!"
"Well, of course you've waked 'em all now," exclaimed Susy,
indignantly: "I might have pricked my fingers to pieces, but I wouldn't
have said a word."
Mr. and Mrs. Parlin, who were in the next room, were wide awake by
this time; but they said nothing, only listened to the whispers of the
children, which grew fainter, being smothered and kept down by
mouthfuls of candy, lozenges, and peanuts.
The little girls longed for daybreak. The sun, however, seemed to be in
no haste, and it was a long while before there was a peep of light. Susy
and Prudy waited, wondering whether the sun would really forget to
show his face; but all the while they waited they were eating candy; so
it was neither dull nor lonely. As for closing their eyes again, they
would have scorned the idea. It would be a pity indeed to fall asleep,

and lose the pleasure of saying "Merry Christmas" to everybody. Norah,
the Irish servant, had said she should be up very early to attend High
Mass: they must certainly waylay her on the stairs. How astonished she
would be, when she supposed they were both soundly asleep!
"Let me do it myself," said Susy: "you stay here, Prudy, for you'll be
sure to make a noise."
"I'll go on my tippy toes," pleaded Prudy, her mouth half filled with
chocolate drops.
So through their mother's room they stole softly, only throwing over
one chair, and hitting Dotty's crib a little in their haste. Dotty made a
sleepy sound of alarm, and Prudy could not help laughing, but only "in
her sleeve," that is, in her "nightie" sleeve, which she put up to her
mouth to smother the noise.
When they had reached the back-stairs Susy whispered, "O, Norah is
up and gone down. I hear her in the kitchen. 'Sh! 'Sh!"
Susy thought there was no time to be lost, and she would have rushed
down stairs, two steps at a time, but her little sister was exactly in the
way.
"Somebody has been and tugged my little chair up here," said Prudy,
"and I must tug it back again."
So in the dim light the two children groped their way down stairs,
Prudy going first with the chair.
"O, what a little snail! Hurry--can't you?" said Susy, impatiently;
"Norah'll be gone! What's the use of our waking up in the night if we
can't say Merry Christmas to anybody?"
"Well, ain't I a-hurryin' now?" exclaimed Prudy, plunging forward and
falling, chair and all, the whole length of the stairs.
All the house was awake now, for Prudy screamed lustily. Grandma

Read called out from the passage-way,--
"O, little Prudence, has thee broken thy neck?"
Mrs. Parlin rushed out, too frightened to speak, and Mr. Parlin ran
down stairs, and took Prudy up in his arms.
"It was--you--did it--Susy Parlin," sobbed the child. "I
shouldn't--have--fell, if you--hadn't--have--screamed."
The poor little girl spoke slowly and with difficulty, as if she dropped a
bucket into her full heart, and drew up the words one at a time.
"O, mother, I know it was me," said Susy meekly; "and I was careless,
and it was all in the dark. I'm sure I hope Prudy'll forgive me."
"No, it wasn't you, neither," said Prudy, whose good humor was
restored the moment Susy had made what she considered due
confession. "You never touched me, Susy! It was the chair; and I love
you just as dearly as ever I did."
Prudy lay on the sofa for some time, looking quite pale by the gas-light,
while her mother rubbed her side, and the rest of the family stood
looking at her with anxious faces.
It was quite an important occasion for Prudy, who always liked to be
the centre of attraction.
"O, mamma," said she, closing her eyes languidly, "when the room
makes believe whirl round, does it truly whirl round?"
The truth was, she felt faint and dizzy, though only for a short time.
"I wish," said she, "it had been somebody else that fell down stairs, and
not me, for I didn't go down easy! The prongs of the chair pushed right
into my side."
But it did not appear that Prudy was much injured, after all. In a few
minutes she was skipping about the room almost as nimbly as ever,

only stopping to groan every now and then, when she happened to
think of it.
"It is a wonder," said Mr. Parlin, "that more children are not lamed for
life by such accidents."
"I have often thought of it," said aunt Madge. "Some little ones seem to
be making