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Show By ETHEL HUESTON "PRUDENCE OF THE PARSONAGE" Hi Copyright Bobbs-Merrill Co. ii n n I in iipiimi ii mmwi mil CHAPTER X Continued. 11 She looked at him queerly. "Maybe not." "f'onnio might, I suppose." "Connie.'" she contradicted prompt-!y, prompt-!y, "will probably marry a genius, or a rascal, or a millionaire." lie looked dazed at that. She leaned forward a little. "Carol might." "Carol " "She might." She watched him narrowly, nar-rowly, a smile in her eyes. "Carol's too worldly." "You don't believe that." "No, not really. Carol she why. you know what I think of it, Carol wouldn't be half bad for a minister's wife. She has a sense of humor, that Is very important. She's generous, she's patient, she's unselfish, a flood mixer some of the ladies might think her complexion wasn't real, but 5raee, Carol wouldn't be half bad !" "Oh, William," she sighed, "can't you remember that you are a Methodist minister, and a grandfather, and grow up a little?" After that Mr. Starr returned to normal again, only many times he and Connie had little outings together, and talked a great deal. And Aunt Grace, seeing it. smiled with satisfaction. But the twins and Fairy settled it in their own minds by saying, "Father was just a little jealous of all the beaux. He was looking for a pal, and he's found Connie." But in spite of his new devotion to Connie, Mr. Starr also spent a great . ... ... urn, -.- ,-, f deal of time with Fairy. "We must get fast chums, Fairy," he often said to her. "This is our last chance. We have to get cemented for a lifetime, you know." And Fairy, when he said so, caught his hand and laughed a little tremulously. tremu-lously. Indeed he was right when he said it was his last chance with Fairy in the parsonage. Two weeks before her commencement she had slipped into the library and closed the door cautiously cau-tiously behind her. "Father," she said, "would you be very sorry if I didn't teach school after nil?" "Not a bit," came the ready answer. "I mean if I you see, father, since you sent me to college I feel as if I ought to work and help out." "That's nonsense," he said, drawing the tall girl down to his knees. "I can take care of my own family, thanks. Are you trying to run me out of my job? If you want to work, all right, do it, but for yourself, and not for us. Or if you want to do anything else," he did not meet her eyes, "if you want to stay at home a year or so before you get married, it would please us better than anything else. And when you want to marry Gene, we're expecting expect-ing it, you know." "Yes, I know" she fingered the lapel of his coat uneasily. "Do you care how soon I get married?" "Are you still sure it is Gene?" "Yes, I'm sure." "Then I think you should choose your own time. I am in no hurry. But , uoy time it's for you and Gene to de-1 cide." j "Then you' haven't set your heart on i my teaching?" "I set my heart on giving you the best chance possible. And I have done it. For the rest, it depends on you. You may work, or you may stay at home a while. I only want you to be happy, Fairy." "But doesn't it seem foolish to go clear through college, and spend the money, and then marry without using the education?" "I do not think so. They've been fine years, and you are finer .because of them. There's just us much opportunity oppor-tunity to use your fineness in a home of your own as in a public school. That's the way I look at it." "You don't think I'm too young?" "You're pretty young." he said slowly. slow-ly. "I can hardly say. Fairy. You've always been capable and self-possessed. When you and Gene get so ; crazy about each other you can't bear to be apart any longer, it's all right here." She put her arm around his neck and rubbed her fingers over his cheek lovingly. lov-ingly. "You understand, don't you, father, that I'm just going to be plain married when the time comes? Not a wedding like I'rudence's. Gene, and the girls, and True and Jerry, and you, father, .that is all." "Yes. all right. It's your day, you know." "And we won't talk much about it beforehand. We all know how we feel about things. It would be silly for me to fry to tell you what a grand, sweet father you've been to us. I can't tell V1U1 jf I tried I'd only cry. You know what I think." His f-'co was against hers, and his eyes weiv. away from her, so Fairy did not see the moisture in his eyes wh-Q he said In lew voice : "Yes, I know. Fairy. And I don't need to say what line gir's you arc, end how proud I a'H of you. You know H already. But sometimes," he added mowly, "I wonder that I haven't been 11 bigger man, and haven't done finer' vifk, with a houseful of girls like kue." Her arm pressed more closely about his neck. "Father," she whispered, "don't say that. We think you are wonderfully splendid, just as you are. It isn't what you.'ve said, not what you've done for us, it's just because you have always made us so sure of you. We never had to wonder about father, or ask ourselves we were sure. We've always had you." She leaned over and kissed him again. "Now we understand each other, don't we?" "I guess so. Anyhow, I understand that there'll only be three daughters in the parsonage pretty soon. All tight, Fairy. I know you will be happy." He paused a moment. "So will I." But the months passed, and Fairy seemed content to stay quietly at home, embroidering as Prudence had done, laughing at the twins as they tripped gayly, riotously through college. And then in the early spring she sent an urgent note to Prudence. "You must come home for a few days, Prue, you and Jerry. It's just because I want you and I need you, and I know you won't go back on me. Just wire you are coming the three' of you. I know you'll be here, since it is I who ask it." . It followed naturally that Prudence's answer was satisfactory. "Of course we'll come." Fairy's plans were very simple. "We'll have a nice family dinner Tuesday Tues-day evening. We'll all be together, nice and quiet, just our own little bunch. Don't have dates, twins of course Gene will be here, but he's part of the family, and we don't want out- Pill "You Don't Think I'm Too Young?" siders this time. His parents will be in town, and I've asked them to come up. I want a real family reunion just for once, and it's my party, for I started start-ed it. So you must let me have it my own way." After the first confusion of welcoming welcom-ing Prudence home, and making fun of "daddy Jerry," and testing the weight and length of little Fairy, they all settled down to a parsonage home-gathering. home-gathering. Just a few minutes before the dinner hour, Fairy took her father's fa-ther's hand. "Come into the limelight," she said softly; "I want you." He passed little Fairy over to the outstretched arms of the nearest auntie, and allowed himself him-self to be led into the center of the room. "Gene," said Fairy, and he came to her quickly, holding out a slender roll of paper. "It's our license," said Fairy. "We think we'd like to be married now, father, if you will." He looked at her questioningly, but understanding'. The girls clustered about them with eager outcries, half protest, half encouragement. "It's my day. you know," cried Fairy, "and this is my way." She held out her hand, and Gene took it very tenderly in his. Mr. Starr ' looked at them gravely for a moment, and then in the gentle voice that the parsonage girls Insisted was his most valuable ministerial asset, he gave his second girl in marriage. It surely was Fairy's way, plain and sweet, without formality. And the dinner that followed was just a happy family dinner. Fairy's face was so glowing with content, and Gene's attitude atti-tude was so tender, and so ludicrously proud, that the twins at last were convinced con-vinced that Ibis was right, and all was well. But that evening, when Gene's parents par-ents hail gone away, and after Fairy and Gene themselves had taken the carriage to the station for their little vacation together, and Jerry and Prudence Pru-dence were putting little Fairy to bed, the three girls left in the home sat drearily in their bedroom and talked it over. "We're thinning out," said Connie. "Who next?" "We'll stick around as long as we like, Miss Connie, you needn't try to shuflle us oil," said Lark Indignantly. "Prudence, and Fairy it was pretty cute of Fairy, wasn't It?" "Let's go to bed," said Carol, rising. "I suppose we'll feel better in the morning. A good sleep is almost as filling fill-ing as a big meal after a blow like this. Well, that's the end of Fairy. We have to make the best of us. Come on, Larkie. You've still got us to boss you, Con, so you needn't feel too forlorn. for-lorn. My, but the house is still! In some ways I think this family is positively posi-tively sickening. Good night, Connie. And, after this, when you want to eat candy in bed, please use your own.' I got chocolate all over my foot last night. Good night, Connie. Well, it's the end of Fairy. The family is going to pieces, sure enough." CHAPTER XI. Sowing Seeds. "Have you seen Mrs. Harbert lately, Carol?" "Yes, she's better, father. I was there a few minutes yesterday." "Yesterday? You were there Tuesday, Tues-day, weren't you?" Carol looked uncomfortable. "Well, yes, I was, just for a second." "She tells me you've been running in nearly every day since she took sick." Carol bent sharply inquiring eyes upon her father. "What else did she tell you?" "She said you were an angel." "Y yes she seems somehow to think I do it for kindness." "And don't you?" "Why, no, father, of course I don't. It's only two blocks out of my way and it's such fun to pop in on sick folks and show them how disgustingly strong and well I am." "Where did you get the money for that basket of fruit?" "I borrowed it from Aunt Grace." Carol's face was crimson with mortification. mortifi-cation. "But it'll be a sweet time before be-fore Mrs. Harbert gets anything else from me. She promised she wouldn't tell." "Did any of the others know about the fruit?" " Wh y not exa ctl y ." "But she thinks it was from the whole family. She thanked me for it." "I I made her think that," Carol explained. "I want her to think we're the nicest parsonage bunch they've ever had in Mount Mark. Besides, it really was from the family. Aunt Grace loaned me the money and I'll have to borrow it from you to pay her. And Lark did my dusting so I could go on the errand, though she did not know what it was. And I er accidentally acci-dentally took one of Connie's ribbons to tie it with. Isn't that a family gift?" "Mr. Scott tells me you are the prime- mover in the Junior League now." he continued. "Well, goodness knows our Junior League needs a mover of some sort." "And Mrs. Davies says you are a whole mercy and help department all by yourself." "What I can't understand," said Carol mournfully, "Is why folks don't keep their mouths shut. I know that sounds very inelegant, but it expresses my idea perfectly. Can't I have a good time in my own way without the whole church peddling me from door to door?" The twinkle in her father's eyes deepened. "What do you call it, Carol, 'sowing seeds of kindness'?" "I should say not," came the emphatic em-phatic retort. "I call it sowing seeds of fun. It's a circus to go around and gloat over folks when they are sick or sorry, or " "But thy tell me you don't gloat. Mrs. Marling says you cried with Jeanie half a day when her dog died." "Oh, that's my way of gloating," said Carol, nothing daunted, but plainly to get away without further interrogation. interroga-tion. It was a strange thing that of all the parsonage girls,. Carol, light-hearted, whimsical, mischievous Carol, was the one most dear to the hearts of her father's fa-ther's people. Not the gentle Prudence, Pru-dence, nor charming Fairy, not clever Lark nor conscientious Connie, could rival the "naughty twin" In Mount Mark's affections. And in spite of her odd curt speeches, and hr openly vaunted vanity, Mount Mark insisted she was "good." Certainly she was willing! "Get Carol Starr she'll do it," was tne commonest phrase in Mount Mark's vocabulary. Whatever was wanted, whatever the sacrifice involved, in-volved, Carol stood ready to fill the bill. Not for kindness oh, dear no Carol s'anchly disclaimed any such niceness as that. She did it for fun, pure arid simple. She said she liked to show otT. She insisted that she liked to feel that she was the pivot on which little old Mount Mark turned. But this was only -chen she was found out. As far as she could she kept her little "seeds of fun" carefully up her sleeve, and it was only when the indiscreet adoration of her friends brought the budding plants to light, that she laughingly laugh-ingly declared "it was a circus to go and gloat over folks." Once in the early dusk of a summer evening, she discovered old Ben Peters, Pe-ters, half intoxicated, slumbering noisily on a pile of sacks in u corner of the parsonage barn. Carol was sorry, but not at all frightened. The poor, kindly, weak, old man was as familiar to her as any figure in Mount i Mark. Tie was always in a more or less helpless state of intoxication, but also he was always harmless, kind-hearted kind-hearted and generous. She prodded him vigorously with the handle of the pitchfork until he was aroused to consciousness, con-sciousness, and then guided him into the woodshed with the buggy whip. When lie was seated on a chunk of wood she faced him sternly. "Well, you are a dandy," she said. "Going into a parsonage barn, of all places in the world, to sleep off an odor like yours ! Why didn't you go down to Fred Greer's harness shop, that's where you got it. We're such an awfully awful-ly temperance town, you know ! But the parsonage! Why, if the trustees had happened into the barn and caught a whiff of that smell, father'd have lost his job. Now you just take warning warn-ing from me, and keep away from this parsonage until you can develop a good Methodist odor. Oh, don't cry about it ! Your very tears smell rummy. Just you hang on to that chunk of wood, and I'll bring you some coffee." Like a thief in the night she sneaked into, the house, and presently returned with a huge tin of coffee, steaming hot. He drank it eagerly, but kept a wary eye on the haughty twin, who stood above him with the whip in her hand. "That's better. Now, sit down and listen to me. If you would come to the parsonage, you have to take your medicine. Silver and gold have we none, but such as we have we give to you. And religion's all we've got. You're here, and I'm here. We haven't any choir or any Bible, but parsonage folks have to be adaptable. Now then, Ben Peters, you've got to get converted." con-verted." The poor doddering old fellow, sobered so-bered by this awful announcement, looked helplessly at the window. It was too small. And slender active Carol, with the buggy whip, stood between be-tween him and the door. "No, you can't escape. You're done for this time1 it's the straight and narrow nar-row from this on. Now listen it's really very simple. And you nead it pretty badly, Ben. Of course you don't realize it when you're drunk, you can't see how terribly disgusting you are, but honestly, Ben, a pig is a ray of sunshine compared to a drunk man. You're a blot on the landscape. You're a you're a " She fished vainly for words, longing for Lark's literary flow of language. "I'm not drunk," he stammered. "No, you're not, thanks to the buggy whip and that strong coffee, but you're no beauty even yet. Well now, to come down to religion again. You can't stop drinking " "I could," he blustered feebly. "I could if I wanted to." "Oh, no, you couldn't. You haven't backbone enough. You couldn't stop to save your life. But," Carol's voice lowered a little, and she grew shy, but very earnest, "but God can stop you, because he has enough backbone for a hundred thousand er, jellyfishes. And you see, it's like this. God made the world, and put the people in it. Now listen carefully, Ben, and I'll make it just as simple as possible so it tan sink through the smell and get at you. God made the world, and put the people peo-ple in it. And the people sinned, worshiped wor-shiped idols and went back on God, and did a lot of other menu things. So God was in honor bound to punish them, for that's the law, and God's the judge that can't be bought. He had to inflict punishment. But God and Jesus talked it over, and they felt awfully bad about it, for they kind of liked the people anyhow." She stared at the disreputable figure slouching on the chunk of wood. "It's very hard to understand, un-derstand, very. I should think they would despise us Some of us," she added significantly. "I'm sure I should. But anyhow they didn't. Are you getting get-ting me?" The bleary eyes were really fastened intently on the girl's bright face, and he hung upon her words. "Well, they decided that Jesus should come down here and live, and he perfectly good, so he would not deserve de-serve any punishment, and then God would allow him to receive the punishment punish-ment anyhow, and the rest of us could go free. That would cover the law. See? Punishing him when he deserved no punishment. Then they could forgive for-give us heathens that didn't deserve it. Do you get that?" She looked at him anxiously. "It all hinges on that, you know. I'm not a preacher myself, but that's the idea. So Jesus was crucified, and then God said, 'There he is! Look on him, believe in him, worship him, and in his name you stand (). K.' See? That means, if we give him the chancr, God'll let Jesus take our share of the punishment. So we've just got to let go, and say, 'All right, here I am. I believe it, I give up, I know I don't amount to a hill of beans and you can say it very honestly but if you want me, and will call it square, God knows I'm willing.' And there you are." "Won't I drink any more?" (TO BE CONTINUED.) |