Prudence of the Parsonage Part 30

"Talk to me," she said, "tell me about where you live, and what you do,--your work, you know, and how you amuse yourself. I want you to amuse me now, Mr. Harmer."

"You called me Jerry this morning."

"Yes, I know. Do you want me to call you Jerry still?"

"Yes, Prudence, I do. Do you mind if I move my chair a little closer?"

"No, put it right here. Now, I am ready."

"But there's nothing interesting about me. Let's talk of----"

"It's interesting to me. Tell me about your business."

"You don't care anything about business, I am sure."

"I care about your business."

"Do you, Prudence?--You look so sweet this afternoon. I nearly blurted it out before the whole family. Wouldn't the twins have laughed? It would have disgraced the parsonage. I think Mr. Starr is awfully lucky to have five girls, and all of them pretty. But isn't it strange that the prettiest and dearest one of them all should be the oldest daughter?"

"Oh, but I'm not really--" Prudence began earnestly. Then she stopped, and added honestly, "But I am glad you think so."

No, they did not quote poetry, they did not discuss the psychological intricacies of spontaneous attraction, they did not say anything deep, or wise, or learned. But they smiled at each other, with pleased investigating eyes. He put his hand on the coverlet, just near enough to touch the lace on the sleeve of her silk dressing gown. And together they found Paradise in the shabby sitting-room of the old Methodist parsonage that afternoon.

"Must you prepare meat for breading half an hour before cooking, or when?" demanded Fairy, from the dining-room door.

"What?--Oh!--Fifteen minutes before. Don't forget to salt and pepper the crumbs, Fairy."

"Perhaps some time your father will let you and a couple of the others come to Des Moines with me in the car. You would enjoy a few days there, I know. I live with my aunt, a dear, motherly little old soul. She will adore you, Prudence, and you will like her, too. Would your father let you spend a week? We can easily drive back and forth in the car."

"Maybe he will,--but who will keep the parsonage while I am away?"

"Fairy, to be sure. She must be a good fairy once in a while. We can take the twins with us, Connie, too, if you like, and then Fairy will only have to mother your father. Do you like riding in a car?"

"Oh, I love it. But I have not ridden very much. Willard Morley took me quite often when he was here, but he is in Chicago now."

"When's he coming back?" suspiciously.

"Prudence, shall we have tea or coffee?" This was Lark from the doorway.

"Fairy wants to know."

"What?--Oh!--Which do you want, Jerry?"

"Which does your father prefer?"

"He doesn't drink either except for breakfast."

"I generally drink coffee, but I do not care much for it, so do not bother----"

"Coffee, Lark."

"When's that Morley chap coming back?"

"I do not know." And then, "He is never coming back as far as I am concerned."

Jerrold relented promptly. "You are why he went away, I suppose."

"At any rate, he is gone."

"Did you ever have a lover, Prudence? A real lover, I mean."

"No, I, never did."

"I'm awfully glad of that. I'll----"

"Prudence, do you use half milk and half water for creamed tomato soup, or all milk?"

"What?--Oh!--All milk, Connie, and tell Fairy not to salt it until it is entirely done, or it may curdle."

"What in the world would they ever do without you, Prudence? You are the soul of the parsonage, aren't you?"

"No, I am just the cook and the chambermaid," she answered, laughing.

"But don't you see how hard it will be for me to go away?"

"But it isn't fair! Vacation is coming now, and Fairy ought to take a turn. What will they do when you get married?"

"I have always said I would not get married."

"But don't you want to get married,--some time?"

"Oh, that isn't it. I just can't because I must take care of the parsonage, and raise the girls. I can't."

"But you will," he whispered, and his hand touched hers for just a second. Prudence did not answer. She lifted her eyes to his face, and caught in her breath once more.

A little later he said, "Do you mind if I go upstairs and talk to your father a few minutes? Maybe I'd better."

"But do not stay very long," she urged, and she wondered why the brightness and suns.h.i.+ne vanished from the room when he went out. "First door to the right," she called after him.

Mr. Starr arose to greet him, and welcomed him to his combination study and bedroom with great friendliness. But Jerrold went straight to the point.

"Mr. Starr, it's very kind of you to receive a perfect stranger as you have me. But I understand that with a girl like Prudence, you will want to be careful. I can give you the names of several prominent men in Des Moines, Christians, who know me well, and can tell you all about me."

"It isn't necessary. We are parsonage people, and we are accustomed to receiving men and women as worthy of our trust, until we find them different. We are glad to count you among our friends."

"Thank you, but--you see, Mr. Starr, this is a little different. Some day, Prudence and I will want to be married, and you will wish to be sure about me."

"Does Prudence know about that?"

"No," with a smile, "we haven't got that far yet. But I am sure she feels it. She hasn't--well, you know what I mean. She has been asleep, but I believe she is waking up now."