Prudence Says So | Page 2

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