Newspapers / The Smithfield Herald (Smithfield, … / Jan. 30, 1917, edition 1 / Page 6
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(Copyright, by the Bobba- Merrill Company.) CHAPTER I. Introducing Her. None but the residents consider Mount Mark, Iowa, much of a town, and the very most patriotic of them all has no word of praise for the ugly little red C. B. & Q. railway station. Mount Mark is anything hut proud of the little station. At the same time It certainly does owe the railroad and the stnte a debt of gratitude for its pres ence there. It Is the favorite social rendezvous for the community ! The arrival of a passenger train in Mount Mark Is an event ? something In the nature of a C. B. & Q. "at home," and Is always attended by a large and en thusiastic gathering of "our best people." All that is lacking are the proverbial "light refreshments!" So it happened that one sultry morn ing, late in the month of August, there was the usual llutter of excitement ami confusion on the platform and In the waiting room of the station. The ha bitues were there In force. Conspicu ous among them were four gayly dressed young men, smoking cigarettes and gazing with lack-luster eyes upon the animated scene, which evidently bored them. The Dally News reporter, In a well creased, light gray suit and tan shoes, and with eyeglasses scientifically bal anced on his aquiline nose, was making pointed Inquiries Into the private plans of the travelers. The young woman going to Burlington to spend the week end was surrounded with about fifteen other young women who had come to "see her off." Mount Mark Is a very respectable town, be It understood, and girls do not go to the station without an excuse ! A man In a black business suit stood alone on the platform, his hands in Ills pockets, his eyes wandering from one to another of the strange faces about him. His plain white ready-made tie proclaimed his calling. "It's the new Methodist minister," volunteered the baggage master, cross ing the platform. "I know him. He's not a bad sort." "They say he's got five kids, and most of 'eiu girls," responded the Ad ams express man. "I want to be on hand when they get here, to pick out a girl." "Yah!" mocked the telegraph opera tor, bobbing his head through the win dow, "you need to. They tell me every girl in Mount Mark has turned you down a'ready." But the Methodist minister, gazing away down the track, where a thin curl of smoke announced the coming of No. 9 and Prudence ? heard nothing "Run, Father, Run!" of this conversation. He was not a handsome man. His hair was gray at the temples, his face was earnest, only saved from severity by the little clus ters of lines at his eyes and mouth which proclaimed that he laughed often and with relish. "Train going east !" The minister stood back from the crowd, but when the train came pound ing In a brightness leaped into his eyes. A slender girl stood in the vesti bule, waving wildly at him a small gloved hand. When the train stopped she leapel lightly from the steps. "Father!" she cried excitedly, and, small and slight as she was, she el bowed her way swiftly through the gaping crowd. "Oh. father!" And she flung her arms about him joyously, un conscious of admiring eyes. Her father kissed her warmly. "Where is your baggage?" he asked, a hand held out to relieve her. "Here!" And with a radiant smile she thrust upon him a box of candy and a gaudy-covered magazine. "Your suitcase," he explained pa tiently. "Oh !" she gasped. "Run, father runl I left it on the train 1" Father did run, but Prudence, fleeter footed, outdistanced him and clam bered on bourd, panting. When she rejoined her father her face was flushed. "Oh, father," she said quite snaiiitiiy, "isu't that Just like bmP "Yes, very like," he agreed, and he smiled. "And so this Is Mount Mark ! Isn't It a funny name, father? Why do they call It Mount Mark?" "I don't know. I hadn't thought to Inquire. We turn here, I'rudence. This is Main street. The city part of the town ? the business part ? Is to the south." "It's a pretty street, Isn't It?" she cried. "Such nice big maples, and such shady, porchy houses. 1 love houses with porches, don't you? Has the par sonage a porch?" "Yes, a big one on the south, and a tiny one In front. We have the house fixed up pretty well, Prudence, but of course you'll have to go over It your self and arrange It as you like. I must go to a trustees' meeting at two o'clock, but we can get a good deal done before then. Mrs. Adams is coin ing to help you this afternoon. She Is one of our Ladies, and very kind. There, that is the parsonage!" Prudence gazed in silence. Many would not have considered It a beauti ful dwelling, but to Prudence it was heavenly. Fortunately the wide, grassy, shaded lawn greeted one flrst. Great, spreading maples bordered the street, and clustering rosebushes lined the walk leading up to the house. The par sonage, to Prudence's gratified eyes, looked homey, and big, and inviting. There were many windows, and the well-known lace curtains looked down upon Prudence tripping happily up the little board walk ? or so it seemed to her. "Two whole stories, and an attic bo sides! Not to mention the bathroom! Oh, father, the night after you wrote there was a bathroom, Constance thanked God for it when she said her prayers. And a furnace, too! Anil electric lights! Oh, we have waited j n long time for it, and we've been very patient indeed, but, between you and me, father, I am most mightily glad we've hit the luxury land at last. I'm | sure we'll all feel much more religious In a parsonage that has a bathroom and electric lights! Oh, father!" He had thrown open the door, and ' Prudence stood upon the threshold of i her new home. Together she and her father went from room to room, up stairs and down, moving a table to the left, a bed to the right ? according to her own good pleasure. Afterward they had a cozy luncheon for two in the "dining room." "Oh, it is so elegant to have a din ing room," breathed Prudence happily. "I always pretended it was rather fun, and a great saving of work, to eat and cook and study and live in one room, but inwardly the idea always outraged me. Is that the school over there?" "Yes, that's where Connie will go. There is only one high school In Mount Mark, so the twins will have to go to the other side of town ? a long walk, but in good weather they can come home for dinner." "Oh, that's a lovely place over there, father!" exclaimed Prudence, looking from the living room windows toward the south. "Isn't It beautiful?" "Yes. The Avery family lives there. The parents are very old and feeble, and the daughters are all ? elderly ? and all schoolteachers. There are four of them, and the youngest is forty-six. Dear me, it is two o'clock already, and I must go at once. Mrs. Adams will be here In a few minutes, and you will not be lonely." Rut when Mrs. Adams arrived at the parsonage she knocked repeatedly, and in vain. Finally she gathered her robes about her and went into the back yard. She peered into the woodshed, and saw no one. She went into the barn lot, and found it empty. In despair, she plunged Into the barn ? and stopped abruptly. In a shadowy corner was a slender tlgure kneeling beside an overturned nallker her face buried in her hands. Evidently this was Prudence engaged in prayer ? and in the barn, of all places in th.- world ! "A ? a ? a ? hem !" stammered Mrs. Adams inquiringly. "Amen !" This was spoken aloud and hurriedly, and Prudence leaped to her feet. Iter fair hair clung about her face in damp, babyish tendrils, and her face was flushed and dusty, but alight with friendly interest. She ran forward eagerly, thrusting forth a slim and grimy hand. "You are Mrs. Adams, aren't you? I am Prudence Starr, It is so kind of you to come the very first day," she cried. "It makes me love you right at the start." "Ye ? yes, I am Mrs. Adams." Mrs. Adams was embarrassed. She could not banish from her mental vision that kneeling figure by the nailkeg. Inter rogation was written all over her ample face, and Prudence promptly read It and hastened to reply. "I do not generally say my prayers iu the barn, Mrs. Adams, I assure you. But? well, when I fonnd this grand, old, rumbling barn, I was so thankful I couldn't resist praying about It." "Hut a barn !" ejaculated the per plexed "member." "Do you call that a blessing?" "Yea, Indeed I do," declared l'ru dence. Then she explained patiently: "Oh, It Is on the children's account, you know. They have always longed for a big, romantic barn to play In. That's why I couldn't resist saying my prayers ? I was so happy I couldn't hold In." As they walked slowly toward the house, Mrs. Adams looked at this par sonage girl in frank curiosity and some dismay, which she strongly endeavored to conceal from the brlght?eyed Pru dence. The Ladles had said It would be so nice to have a grown girl In the parsonage ! Prudence was nineteen from all account, but she looked like a child, und ? well, it was not exactly grown-up to give thanks for a barn, to say the very least! Yet this girl had full charge of four younger chil dren, and was further burdened with th?- entire care of a minister-father! Well, well ! Mrs. Adams sighed a little. "You are tired," said Prudence sym pathetically. "It's so hot walking, Isn't it? Let's sit on the porch until you are nicely rested." "This is a fine chance for us to get acquainted," said the good woman with eagerness. Now, If the tmth must be told, there hud been some Ill-feeling In the Ladies' Aid society concerning the reception of Prudence. After the session of con In the Barn of All Places. ference, when Rev. Mr. Starr was as signed to Mount Mark, the Ladies ol the church had felt great interest ir the man and his family. They inquirec on every hand, and learned several in teresting items. The mother had beer taken from the family five years be fore, after a long illness, and Prudence the eldest daughter, had taken charge of the household. There were five chil dren. So much was known, and beins women, they looked forward witt eager curiosity to the coming of I'ru deuce, the young mistress of the par so n age. Mr. Starr had arrived at Mount Mart a week ahead of his family. Prudenct and the other children had spent the week visiting at the home of theti aunt, and Prudence had come on a daj In advance of the others to "wind ev erything up," as she had expressed it Rut to return to the Ladies ? the par sonage girls always capitalized the La dies of their father's chuivh ? "One ol us should go and help the dear child," said Mrs. Scott, the president of the Aids, when they assembled for their business meeting, "help her, and wel come her, and advise her." "I was thinking of going over," said one, and another, and several others. "Oh, that will not do at all," said the president. "I think in a case like this the president herself should represent | the society. Therefore, I will under I take this duty for you." But this called forth a storm of pro ! test and K became so clamorous that it was unofficially decided to draw cuts! Which was done, and in consequence of that drawing of cuts, Mrs. Adams now sat on the front porch of the old gray parsonage, cheered by the knowl edge that every other Lady of the Aid was envying her ! "Now, Just be real sociable and tell me all about yourself, and the others, too," urged Mrs. Adams. "I want to know all about every one of you. Tell | me everything." "There isn't much to tell," said Pru | deuce, smiling. "There are five of us; I am the oldest ? I am nineteen. Then | cornea Fairy, then the twins, and then I the baby." "Are the twins boys, or a boy and 8 girl?" "Neither," said Prudence, "they are both girls." "More girls!" gasped Mrs. Adams. "And the baby?" "She is a girl, too." And Prudence laUghed. "In short, we are all girls except father. lie couldn't be, of course ? or I suppose he would, for our family does seem to run to girls." "Prudence is a very nice name for a minister's daughter," said Mrs. Ad ams suggestively. "Yes ? for some ministers' daugh ters," assented Prudence. "But is sad ly unsuitable for me." Mrs. Adams looked critically at this young daughter of the parsonage. Then her eves wandered do?vn to her clothes, and lingered, In silent ques tioning, on l'rudence'i dress. It was i a very peculiar color. In fact. It was no color at all ? no named color, l'ru dence's eyes had followed Mrs. Ad ams' glance, ami she spoke frankly. "I suppose you're wondering If this ! dress Is any color! Well, I think It really is, hut it isn't any of the regu lar shades. It is my own invention, but I've never named it. Fairy grew up and out and around, and one day when I was so nearly out of clothes I hardly felt I could attend church any more, she suggested that I cut an old one of hers down for me ! At first I laughed, and then I was insulted. Fairy is three years younger than I, and before then she had got my handed downs. Hut now the tables were turned. From that time on Fairy's clothes were cut down for me. I still feel bitter about It. Fairy is dark, and dark blues are becoming to her. She handed down this dress ? it was dark blue then. I$ut I was not wanting a dark blue, and I thought it would be . less recognisable if I gave it a con- j trastlng color. I chose lavender. I ! dyed It four times, and this was the re sult." "Do the twins dress alike?" inquired ! Mrs. Adams, when she could control her voice. "Yes ? unfortunately for Connie. They do it on purpose to escape the handed-downs ! They won't even have hair ribbons different. And the result Is that poor Connie never gets one { new thing except shoes. She says she cannot help thanking the Lord in her | prayers that all of us outwear our shoes before we can outgrow them. ? j Connie is only nine. Fairy is sixteen, | ami the twins are thirteen. They are ' a very clever lot of girls." "And what are you going to do?" in quired Mrs. Adams, looking with real affection at the bright, sweet face. "You ought to go to school. You're Just a girl yourself." "I don't want to go to school," laughed I'rudence. "Not any more. I like it. Just taking care of father and the girls ? with Fairy to keep me bal anced ! I read, but I do not like to study. ? No, you'll have to get along with me Just the way I am, Mrs. Ad ams. It's all I can do to keep things going now, without spending half the time dreaming of big things to do in the future." "Don't you have dreams?" gasped Mrs. Adams. "Don't you have dreams of tiie future? Girl's in books nowa days dream ? " "Yes, I dream," interrupted Pru dence, "I dream lots ? but it's mostly of what Fairy and others will do when I get them properly raised. Y'ou'll like the girls, Mrs. Adams, I know you will. They really are a gifted little bunch ? except me. I'm just common little Pru dence of the Parsonage ? but the oth ers!" And Prudence tlung out her hands dramatically. CHAPTER II. The Rest of the Family. It was Saturday morning when the four young parsonage girls arrived in Mount Mark. The elderly Misses Avery, next door, looked out of their windows, pending their appearance on Main street, with interest and concern. They J were Episcopalians themselves, and in | all their long lives they had never so | much as heard of a widower-rector with five daughters and no liousekeep- ; er. There was something blood-cur- j (fling in the bare idea. The Misses Avery considered Pru dence herself rather a sweet, silly i little thing. "You have some real nice people in the Methodist church," Miss Dora had told her. "I dare say you will find a few of them very likable." "Oh, I will like them all," said Pru dence quickly and seriously. "Like them all," echoed Miss Dora. "Oh, impossible!" "Not for us," said Prudence. "We are used to it, you know. When we dislike people at first sifdit, we visit "Quick! They Are Coming!" them, nml talk to them, nnd invito thorn to the parsonage, and entertain them with our beat linen and silver wan'. and keep on getting friendlier and friendlier, and? first thing you know, we liko them fine!" So tho Misses Avor.v concluded that Prudence was not entirely responsible. ! And they wondered, with something nkin to an agony of fear, if the younger J girls "had it, too!" and when Mis? Alice cried excitedly, "Quick ! Quick ! i Thoy hi-o coming!** they trooped to Miss Alice's window with a speeil that would have done credit to the parson age girls themselves. First cauie the minister, whom they knew very well by this time, and con sidered quite respectable. He was lively, us was to be expected of a Methodist minister, and told jokes, and laughed at them! Now, a comical rector ? oh, a very different matter ? it wasn't done, that's all ! At any rate, here came the Methodist minister, laughing, and on oue side of him tripped a small, earnest-looking maid en, clasping his hand, and gazing alter nately up into his face and down at the stylish cement sidewalk beneath her feet. On the other side was Fairy. The Misses Avery knew the girls by name already ? having talked much with Prudence. "Such a Fairy !" gasped Miss Milll cent, and the others echoed the gasp but wordlessly. For Fairy was very nearly as tall as her father, built upon generous lines, rather commanding in appear ance, a little splendid-looking. Even from their windows they could discern something distinctly Junolike in this sixteen-year-old girl, with the easy, elastic stride that matched her fa ther's, and the graceful head, well car ried. A young goddess ? named Fairy ! Behind them, laughing and chatter ing, like three children, as they were ? came the twins with Prudence, each with an arm around her waist. And Prudence was a very little taller than they. When they reached the fence that bordered the parsonage, the scene for a moment resembled a miniature riot. The smaller girls jumped and exclaimed, and clasped their hands. Fairy leaned ovyr the fence, and stared intently at this, their parsonage home. Then the serious little girl scrambled under the fence, followed closely by the lithe-limbed twins. A pause, a very short one ? and then Pru dence, too, was wriggling beneath the fence. "Hold the wire up for me, papa!" | cried Fairy. "I'm too fat." And a sec- ; ond later she was running gracefully across the lawn toward the parsonage. The Methodist minister laughed boy ishly, and placing his hands on the 1 fence post, he vaulted lightly over, j and reached the house with his daugh ters. Then the Misses Avery, school teachers and elderly, looked at one an other. "Did you ever?" gasped the oldest ; Miss Avery, and the others slowly shook their heads. Now, think ! Did you ever see a rec- j tor jumping a three-wire fence, and | running full speed across his front i yard in pursuit of a flying family? It j may possibly have occurred ? we have ! never seen it. Neither had the three Misses Avery. Nor did they ever ex- j pect to. And if they had seen it, it , is quite likely they would have joined j the backsliders at that Instant. But without wasting much time on this gruesome thought, they hurried j to a window commanding the best view of the parsonage, and raised it. Then ! they clustered behind the curtains, and watched and listened. There was plenty to hear ! From the parsonage windows came the sound of scamper ing feet and banging doors. Once there was the unmistakable clatter of a chair overturned. With it all there was a constant chorus of "Oh, look !" "Oh ! Oh !" "Oh, how sweet !" "Oh, papa !" j "Oh, Prudence!" "Look, Larkie, look ai uns: Thon the eldest Miss Avery closed the window overlooking the parsonage and confronted her sisters. "We must just make the best of it," she said quietly. But next door the gray old parson age was full to overflowing with satis faction and happiness and love. Every one has experienced the ecstatic, creepy sensation of sleeping in a brand-new home. The parsonage girls reveled in the memory of that tirst night for many days. "It may be haunted for all we know," cried Carol deliciously. "Just think, Connie, there may be seven ghosts camped on the head of your bed, waiting ? " "Carol P When the family gathered for wor ship on that first Sabbath morning, Mr. Starr said, as he turned the leaves : of his well-worn Bible, "I think it! would be well for you to help with the morning worship now. When I finish reading the chapter, Connie, you will make the first prayer, .fust pray for whatever you wish ns you do at night for yourself. I will fol .v you." Connie's eyes wtre wide with respon sibility during the reading of the chap ter, but when she began to speak her voice did not falter. Connie had nine years of good Methodist experience back of her ! "Our Father, who art in heaven, we bow ourselves before thy footstool in humility and reverence. Thou art our fJod, our Creator, our Savior. Bless us this day, and cause thy face to shine upon us. Blot out our transgressions, ' pardon our trespasses. Wash us, that we may be whiter than snow. Hide not thy face from the eyes of thy children, turn not upon us in wrath. I'ity us. Lord, as we kneel here pros trate before thy majesty and glory. Let the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be accept able in thy sight, O Lord, our strength and our Redeemer. And finally save us, an unbroken family around thy throne in heaven, for Jesus' sake. Amen." This was followed by an electric si lence. Prudence was biting her lips painfully, and counting by tens as fast as she could. Fairy was mentally go ing over the prayer, sentence by sen tence, and attributing each petition to th? individual member in the old church at Exminster to whom it be longed. The twins were a lif tic ?mazed, and quite proud. Connie was an honor to the parsonage? i,ut they were concerned lest they themselves should not do quite so well when their days came. But in less than a moment the min ister-father began his prayer. When he said "Amen," Prudence was on her feet and half-way upstairs before the others were fairly risen. Fairy stood gazing Intently out of the window for a moment, and then went out to the barn to see if the horse was through eating. Mr. Starr walked gravely and soberly out the front door, and around the house. He ran Into Fairy coming out the kitchen door, and they glanced quickly at each other. "Hurry, |?apa," she whispered; "you can't hold in much longer! Neither can I !" And together, choking with laugh ter, they hurried Into the barn and gave full vent to their feelings. So it was that the twins aud Connie were alone for a while. "You did a pretty ffood job, Connie," said Carol approvingly. "Yes, I think I did myself," was the complacent answer. "But I intended to put in, 'Keep us as the apple of thy eye, hold us in the hollow of thy hand,' and I forgot It until I had said 'Amen.' I had a notion to put in a postscript, but I believe that isn't done." "Never mind," said Carol, "I'll use that in mine, tomorrow." It cannot be said that this form of family worship was a great success. The twins were Invariably stereotyped, cut and dried. They thanked the Lord for the beautiful morning, for kind friends, for health, and family, and par sonage. Connie always prayed In sen tences extracted from the prayers of others she had often heard, and every time with nearly disastrous effect. But later on the morning worship went better. The prayers of the chil dren changed ? became more personal, less flowery. They remembered that when they knelt they were at the feet of God, and speaking direct to him. The family had been in the new par sonage only three weeks, when a vis iting minister called on them. It was about ten minutes before the lunch eon hour at the time of his arrival. Mr. Starr was in the country, visiting, so the girls received him alone. It was an unfortunate day for the Starrs. Fairy had been at college all morning, and Prudence had been rummaging in the attic, getting It ready for a rainy day and winter playroom for the younger girls. She was dusty and tired. The luncheon hour arrived, and the girls came in from school, eager to he ui> and away again. Still the grave young minister sat discoursing upon serious topics with the fidgety Pru dence ? and in spite of dust and per spiration, she was good to look upon. Itev. Mr. Morgan realized that, and could not tear himself away. Finally Prudence sighed. "Do you like sweet corn, Mr. Mor gan?" This was entirely out of the line of their conversation, and for a moment he faltered. "Sweet corn?" he repeated. "Yes, roasting ears, you know ? cooked on the cob." Then he smiled. "Oh, yes, indeed. Very much." he said. "Well," she began her explanation rather drearily, "I was busy this morn ing and did not prepare much lunch eon, We are very fond of sweet corn, and I cooked an enormous panful. But that's all we have for luncheon ? sweet corn and butter. We haven't even bread, because I am going to bake this afternoon, and we never eat it with sweet corn, anyhow. Now, if you care to eat sweet corn and butter, and canned peaches, we'd just love to have you stay for luncheon with us." Rev. Mr. Morgan was charmed, and said so. So Prudence rushed to the kitchen, opened the peaches in a hurry, and fished out a clean napkin for their guest. Then they gathered about the table, five girls and the visiting min ister. It was really a curious sight, that table. In the center stood a tall vase of goldenrod. On either side of the vase was a great platter piled high with sweet corn, on the cob ! Around the table were six plates, with the nec essary silverware, and a glass of wa ter for each. There was also a small dish of peaches at each place, and an individual plate of butter. That was all ? except the napkins. But Prudence made no apologies. She was a daugh ter of the parsonage ! She showed Rev. Mr. Morgan to his place as graciously and sweetly as though she were usher ing him in to a twenty-seven-course banquet. "Will you return thanks, Mr. Mor gan?" she said. And the girls bowed their heads. Rev. Mr. Morgan cleared his throat, nnd began : "Our Father we thank thee for this table." There was more of the blessing, hut the parsonage girls heard not one ad ditional phrase ? except Connie, who followed him conscientiously through every word. Carol burst into merry laughter, close upon his reverent "Amen" ? and after one awful glare at her sister. Prudence Joined in. and soon it was a rollicking group around the parsonage table. Mr. Morgan him self smiled uncertainly. He watf puz zled. More, he was embarrassed. But as soon as Carol could get her breath, she gasped out an explanation. "You were just ? right. Mr. Morgan-? to give thanks ? for the table! There's nothing- ? on it ? to be thankful for! And the whole family went off once more into peals of laughter. Mr. Morgan had very little appetite that day. He did not seem to be so fond of sweet corn as he had assured Prudence. He talked very little, too. And as soon as possible he took his Uit and walked hurriedly away.
The Smithfield Herald (Smithfield, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Jan. 30, 1917, edition 1
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