Newspapers / The Smithfield Herald (Smithfield, … / March 20, 1917, edition 1 / Page 6
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PRUDENCE ? * ^ . 1 ParsQnace, by ETHEL tHCUESIOf (Copyright, by the Uobbs-Merrlll Com pany.) CHAPTER XI. She Orders Her Life. That was the beginning of Pru dence's golden sunnncr. Site was not given to self-analysis. She hadn't the time. She took things as they came. She could not hear the thought of shar ing with the parsonage family even the least ardent and most prosaic of Jer rold's letters. But she never asked herself the reason. The days when Jerry came were tremulously happy ones for her ? she was all aqulver when she heard him swinging briskly up the Side by Side Talking in Whispers. ramshackle parsonage walk, and her breath was suffocatingly hot. But she took it as a matter of course. She knew that Jerry's voice was the sweet est voice in the world. She knew that his eyes were the softest and brightest and the most tender. She knew that his hands had a thrilling touch quite different from the touch of ordinary, less dear hands. She knew that his smile lifted her into a delirium of de light. Prudence never thought of that. She just lived in the sweet ecstatic dream of the summer, and was well and richly content. So the vacation passed and Indian summer came. It *,?as Saturday evening. The early supper at the parsonage was over, the twins had washed the dishes, and still the daylight lingered. Prudence and Jerry sat side by side, and closely, on the front porch, talkii g in whispers. Fairy had gone for a stroll with the still faithful Babbie. Connie and the twins had evidently vanished. Ah ? not quite that! Carol and Lark came swiftly around the corner of the par sonage. "Good evening," said Lark politely, and Prudence sat up abruptly. The twins never wasted politeness ! They wanted something. "Do you mind If we take Jerry around by the woodshed for a few min utes, Prue?" Prudence sniffed suspiciously. "What are you going to do to him?" she de manded. "We won't hurt him," grinned Carol impishly. "Maybe he's afraid to come," said Lark, "for there are two of us, and we are mighty men of valor." "That's all right," Prudence an swered defensively. "I'd sooner face a tribe of wild Indians any day than y*?u twins when you are mischief -bent*" "Oh, we just want to use him a few minutes," said Carol impatiently. "Upon our honor, as Christian Rentle men, we promise not to hurt a hair of his head." "Oh, come along, and cut out the comedy," Jerry broke in, laughing. Then the twins led him to the wood shed. Close beside the shed grew a tall and luxuriant maple. MDo you see this board?" began Lark, exhibiting with some pride a J. M. Broughton, Jr., has been cho sen President of the Raleigh Chamber of Commerce to succeed John A. Park. Miss Jeannette Kankin, the woman Congressman from Montana, is billed to speak in Fayetteville some time in the spring. solid board about two feet In length. "Well, we found this over by the Av ery burn. We've found a perfectly gorgeous place up In the old tree where we can make a seat. We thought you could null this on to the limbs ? there ? re two right near each other, evident ly put there on purpose for us. See what dandy big nails we have!" "From thf Avery's woodshed, 1 sup pose," he raggested, smiling. "Oh, th?\v ure quite rusty. We found them in the scrap heap. We're very good friends with the Averys, very good, indeed." Miie continued hastily. "They allow us to rummage around at will ? in the barn." "And see this rope," cried Carol. "Isn't It a dandy?" "Ah ! The Avery barn must be inex haustible in its resources." "liow suspicious you lire, Jerry," mourned Lark. "We thought when you had the board nailed on, you might rope it to the limbs above. l)o you suj> pose you can do that, Jerry?" "Well, let's begin. Now, observe! I loop this end of the rope lightly about my ? er? middle. T)ie other end will dangle on the ground to be drawn up at will. I bestow the good but rusty nails In this pocket, and the hammer here. Then with the admirable board beneath my arm, I mount ? " And Jerry smiled as he heard the faithful twins, with much grunting and an occasional groan, following in his wake. It was a delightful location, as they had suld. The board titted nice ly on the two limbs, and Jerry fastened it with the rusty nulls. The twins were juhilunt und loud in their praises of his skill and courage. "Oh, Jerry!" exclaimed Carol, with deep satisfaction, "It's such a blessing to discover something really nice about you after all these months!" "Now, we'll Just ? " "Hush!" hissed Lurk. "Here comes Connie. Hold your breath, Jerry, and don't budge." "Isn't she in on this?" he whispered. He could hear Connie making weird noises as she came around the house from the front. She was learning to whistle, and tin* effect was ghastly in the extreme. Connie's mouth had not been designed for whistling. "Sh ! She's the band of dark-browed gypsies trying to steal my lovely wife." "I'm the lovely wife," Interrupted Carol, complacently. "But Connie does not know about It. She is so religious she won't be uuy of the villain parts." Connie came around the corner ol the parsonage, out the buck walk bis neath the maple. Then she gave a gleeful scream. Right before her lay a beautiful heavy rope. Connie had been yearning for a good rope to make a swing. Here it lay, at her very feet, plainly u gift of the gods. She did not wait to see where the other end of the rope was. She Just grabbed what she saw before her, and started violently back around the house with it, yelling: "Prudence ! Look at my rope !" Prudence rushed around the parson age. The twins shrieked wildly, as thero was a terrific tug and heave of the limb beside them, and then ? a crashing of branches and leaves. Jerry was gone! it aid iook norribie, from above as well as below. Hut Jerry, when he felt the tirst light twinge as Connie lifted the rope, foresaw what was coining and was ready for it. As he went down, he grabbed a firm hold on the branch on which he had stood, then he droj> ped to the next, and held again. On the lowest limb he really clung for fifteen seconds, and took in his bear ings. Connie had dropped the rope when the twins screamed, so he had nothing more to fear from her. lie saw Prudence, white, with wild eyes, both arms stretched out toward him. "O. K., True," he called, and then he dropped, lie landed on his feet, a lit tle Jolted, but none the worse for his fall. lie ran at once to Prudence. "I'm all right," he cried, really alarmed by the white horror In her face. "Pru dence ! Prudence !" Then her arms dropped, and with a brave but feeble smile, she swayed u little. Jerry took her in his arms. "Sweetheart!" he whispered. "Little sweetheart! Do ? do you love me so much, dearest?" Prudence raised her hands to his fare, and looked intensely into his eyes, all the sweet loving soul of her shining in her own. And Jerry kissed her. The twins scrambled down from the maple, speechless and cold with terror, and saw Prudence and Jerry ! Then they saw Connie, staring at them with interest and amusement. "I think we'd better go to bed, all three of us," declared Lark sturdily. And they set off "heroically around the house. Rut at the corner Carol turned. "Take ray advice and ro into the woodshed," she called, "for all the Av ery? aiv looking out of their window*." Prudence did not hear, but he drew her swiftly to the darkest corner of the side porcb ? and history repeated Ft self ouce more! At twelve, Jerry went upstairs to bed, his lips tingling with the fervent tenderness of her parting kiss. lie stood at his window, looking soberly out into the moonlit parsonage yard. "She is an angel, a pure, sweet, unself ish little angel," he whispered, and his voice was broken, and his eyes were wet, "and she is going to be my wife! Oh, God, teach me how to be good to her, and help me make her as happy as she deserves." At two o'clock, thinking again the soft shy words she had whispered to him, he dropped lightly asleep and dreamed of her. With the first pale streaks of daylight stealing into his room he awoke. It was after four o'clock. A little Inter ? just a few min utes later ? o?* beard a light tap ou his door. It cante nfaln, and h<' bounded out of bed. "I'rudeuce! Is anything wrong?" "flush, Jerry, not so loud!" Aud what a st range and weary voice. "Come downstairs, vl II you? 1 want to tell you something. I'll wait at the foot of the stairs. Be quiet- do not wake father and the girls. Will you be down soon?" "In two minutes!" Ami In two minutes he was down, ajfonlr'ngly anxious, knowing that something was wrong. Prudence was waiting for him, aud as he reached the bottom step she clutched his hands desperately. "Jerry," she whispered. "I ? forgive me ? I honestly ? Oh, 1 didn't think i what I w as saying last night. You were j so dear, and 1 was so happy, and for j a w hile I really believed we could i belong to each other. Put I can't, you . know. I've promised papa und the girls a dozen times that I would never j marry. Don't you see how It Is? 1 must take it back." Jerry smiled a little, it must be ad mitted. This was so like his consci entious little Prudence ! "Dearest," he said gently. "You love me. Your father would never allow | you to sacrifice yourself like that. The girls would not hear of it. They want you to be happy. And you cau't be ' happy without me, can you?" Suddenly she crushed close to him. "Oh, Jerry," she sobbed, "I will never be happy again, I know. But ? it is right for me to stay here and be t lie mother in the parsonage. It is wicked of me to want you more than all of them. Don't you see it is? 'j'hey haven't any mother. They haven't anyone but me. Of course, they would not allow It, but they will not know anything about it. I must do it my self. And father especially must | never know. I want you to go awuy this morning before breakfast and ? never come again." She clung to him as she said this, but her voice did not falter. "And you must not write to me any more. For, oh, Jerry, if I see you again I can never let you go, I know it. Will you do this /( ? me?" "You are nervous and excited," he said tenderly. "Let's wait until after J breakfast. Then we'll talk it all over with your father, and it shall be as ho' says. Won't thai be better?" "Oh, no. For father wijl say what-' ever he thinks will make me happy. He must not know a thing about it. Prom ise, Jerry, that you will never tell him one word." "I promise, of course, I'rudeuee. 1 will let you tell him." Hut she shook her head. "He will never know. Oh, Jerry! I can't beat to think of never seeing you again, ' and never getting letters from you, and it seems to kill me inside, just the thought of It." "Sit here in my lap." I'ut your head on my shoulder, like that. Let me rut your face a little. You're feverish. You are sick. (Jo to bed, won't you, sweet heart? We can settle this later on." "You must go right away, or I can not let you go at all !" "Do you mean you want me to get my things and go right now?" "Yes." She buried her face in his shoulder. "If ? if you stay in youi room until breakfast time I will lock you in, so you cannot leave me again. I know it. I am crazy today." "Don't you think you owe me souie thing, as well as your father and sis ters? Didn't God bring us together and make us love each other? Don'1 you think he intended us for each oth er? Do you wish you had never met me?" "Tot-fir t" ?' * "Then, sweetheart, be reasonable 1 Your father loved your mother, and married her. That is God's plan for all of us. You have been a wonderfully brave and sweet daughter and sister 1 know. Hut surely Fairy is old enough to take your place now." "Fairy's going to be a professor, and ? the girls do not mind her very well, | And she isn't as much comfort to fa ther as I am. It's just because I nm most like mother, you see. Hut any how, I promised. I can't leave them." "Your father expects you to marry, and to marry me. I told him about it myself, long ago. And he was perfect ly willing, lie didn't say a word against it." "Of course he wouldn't. That's just like father. Hut still, I promised. And what would the girls sa? if I should go back on them? They have trusted me, always. If I fail them, will they ever trust anybody else? If you love me, Jerry, please go, and stay away." Hut her ami tightened about his neck. "I'll wait here until you gi* your things, and we cab ? say goodby. And don't forget your promise." "Oh. very well, PrudQfice," he n? swered, half irrital^T, "if you Insist oq ordering me away fropi the house like this, I can only go. Hut ? " "Lst'a not talk any more about it, Jerry. Please. I'll wait until you come down." When he came down a little later, with his suitcase, his face was white aftd strained. She put her arms around his neck. "Jerry." she whispered. "I want to tell you that 1 love you so much that? I could go away with you, and never see any of them any more, or papa, or the parsonage, and still feel rich, If 1 just had you! You ? everything in me seems to be all yours. I ? love you." Her tremulous lips were pressed against his. "Oh. sweetheart, this Is folly, all folly. But I can't make you see It. it Is wron*, it is wickedly wrong, but ? ** "Hut I am all they have, Jerry, and ? 1 promised." "Whenever you want me, Pruuenc*. Just send. I'll never change. I'll al ways |>e just the name. God intended you for me, 1 know, and ? I'll be wait ing." "Jerry : Jerry ! Jerry !" she whispered passionately, sobbing, quivering in his arms. It was he who drew away. "Good-by, sweetheart," he said quiet ly, great pity in his heart for the girl who in her desire to do right was doing "Whenever You Send, I Will Come." such horrible wrong. "Good-by, sweet heart. Remember, I will be waiting. Whenever you send, I will come." He stepped outSide, nod closed the door. I'rudence stood motionless, her hands clenched, until she could no longer hear his footsteps. Then she dropped on the iloor,. and lay there, face downward, until she heard Fairy moving in her room upstairs. Then she went into the kitchen and built the lire for breakfast. CHAPTER XII. She Comes to Grief. Fairy was one of those buoyant, warm-blooded girls to whom sleep Is indeed tne great restorer. Now she stood in the kitchen door, tall, cheeks glowing, eyes sparkling, and smiled at her sister's solemn back. "You are the little mousey, True," she said, in her full rich voice. "I didn't hear you come to bed last night, and I didn't hear you getting out this morning. Why, what is the matter?" For Prudence had turned her face to ward her sister, and it was so white and so unnatural that Fairy was shocked. "Prudence! You are sick! Go to bed and let me get breakfast. Here, get out of this, and 1 will ? " "There's nothing the matter with me. I had a headache, and did not sleep, but 1 am all right now. Are the girls up yet?" Fairy eyed her suspiciously. "Jerry is out unusually early, too, isn't he? His door is open." "Jerry has gone, Fairy." Prudence's back was presented to view once more, and Prudence was stirring the oatmeal with vicious energy, "lie left early this morning-*T suppose he is half-way to Des Moines by now." "Oh!" Fairy's voice was noncom mittal. "When is he coming back?" "He isn't coming back. Please hurry. Fairy, and call the others. The oatmeal is ready." Fairy went soberly up tne stairs,, ostensibly to call her sisters. "(Jirls," she began, carefully closing the door of their room behind her. "Jerry has gone, and isn't coming back any more. And for goodness' sake, don't keep asking questions about it. Just eat your breakfast as usual, and have a little tact." "A lovers' quarrel," suggested Lark, her eyes glittered greedily. "Nothing of the sort. And don't?keep staring at Prue, either. And do not | keep talking about Jerry all the time. You mind me, or I will tell papa." "That's funny," said Carol thought fully. "We saw them kissing each other like mad in the back yard last night ? | and this morning he has gone to return no more. They are crazy." "Kissing! In the back yard! What are you talking about?' Carol explained, and Fairy looked ; still more thoughtful and perturbed. ! She opened I he door, and called out to them in a loud and breezy voice:! "Hurry, girls, for breakfast is ready, and there's no time to 'waste in a par sonage on Sunday morning." Then she added in a whisper, "And >don't you month n Jerry, and don'4 ask Prudence \\ liiit "lakes hur sn pale, or you'll catch it!" Then she went to her father's door. "Breakfast Is ready, p pa," she called clearly. She turned the knob softly, and peeped in. "May 1 come in a min ute?" Standing close beside him, she told him all she knew of what had hap pened. "Prudence Is ghastly, father, just ghastly. And she can't talk about it yet. so be careful what you say, will you?" And It was due to Fairy's kindly ad monitions that the parsonage family took the departure of Jerry so calmly, That was the begiuning of Prudence'! bitter winter, when thp brightest sun shine was eheerle ? ami dreary, and when even the Ian liter of her sister? smote harshly upon her ears. She tried to be nf> always, bat In her eyes th? wounded look linj t> d, and her face srew so pale nn?' tMn that her father nnd Fnlry, anxiously wntehinff, wore filial with gra%'e concern. She re mained almost constantly in the par sonage, reading v?ry little, sitting most of her leisure time staring out the win dOW8. Fairy had tried to win her confi dence, and had failed. "You are a 'arling. Fairy, but I real ly do not want to talk about it. Oh, no, indeed, it is all my own fault. 1 told him to go, and not come again. No, you are wrong, Fairy, I do not re gret it. I do not want him to come any more." Mr. Starr, too, had tried. "Prudence," he said gently, "you know very often men do things that to women seem wrong and wicked. And maybe they are ! Put men and women are differ ent by nature, my dear, and we must remember that. 1 have satisfied myself that Jerry is good, and clean, and man ly. I do not think you should let any foolishness of his in the past come be tween you now." "You are mistaken, father. Jerry is all right, and always was, I am sure. It is nothing like that. I told him to go, and not to come again. That is all." "Rut If he should come back now ? " "It would be just the same. Don't worry about it, father. It's all right." "Prudence," he said, more tenderly, "we have been the closest of friends and companions, you and I, from the very beginning. Always you have come to me with your troubles and worries. Have I ever failed you? Why, then, j do you go back on me now, when you I really need me?" Prudence patted his shoulder affec- 1 I tionately, but her eyes did not meet I his. "I do not really need you now, I father. It is all settled, and I am quite satisfied. Things are all right with me just as they are." Then he took a serious step, without her knowledge.. lie went to Des Moines, and had a visit with Jerry. He found him thinner, his face sterner, I his eyes darker. When the office boy [ announced "Mr. Starr," Jerry ran quickly out to greet him. "Is she all right?" he cried eagerly, almost before he was within hailing distance. Mr. Starr did not mince matters. "Jerry," he said abruptly, "did you and Prudence have a quarrel? She de- 1 dines to tell me anything about it, and after the conversations you and I have : had, I think I have a right to know ! what has happened." | "Does she miss me? Does she seem sorry that I am away? Does ? " llif voice was so boyish and so eager there 1 was no mistaking his attitude toward j Prudence. "Look here, Jerry, I want to know. Why are you staying away?" "Won't Prudence tell you?" "No." "Then I cannot. She made me prom ise not to tell you a word. But it is ! not my fault, Mr. Starr. I can tell you that. It is nothing I have done or said, j She sent me away because she thinks it was right for her to do so, and ? you know Prudence! It is wrong, I knov/. I knew it all the time. But I couldn't make her see it. And she made mt . promise not to tell." In the end Mr. Starr went back to I the parsonage no wiser than he left, | save that he now knew that Jerry was I really not to blame, and that he held himself ready to return to her on a moment's notice. The Ladies of the Methodist church j were puafcled and exasperated. They j I went to the parsonage, determined to "find out what's what." But when they sat with Prudence, and looked at the frail, pathetic little figure, with the mournful eyes ? they could only sigh with iter and go their ways. The twins continued to play in the great maple, even when the leaves were fallen. "It's a dandy place, I tell you. Prudence," cried Carol. "Jer rv didn't have time to nut un the rone before Connie pulled him down, but we've fixed it ourselves, and it is sim ply grand. You can go up and swing any time you like ? unless your joints are too stiff ! It's a very serious mat ter getting up there ? for stiff joints, of course, I mean. Lark and I get up easy enough." For a moment Prudence sat silent j with quivering lips. Then she burst ; out with unusual passion, "Don't you ever dare climb that tree again as long as you live, twins! Mind what I say !" Lark looked thoughtfully out of the window, and Carol swallowed hard. It was she iiho said gently, "Why, of course, Prue ? just as you say." On the day before Christmas an in sured package was delivered at the parsonage for Prudence. A letter was with it, and she read that first. "My dearest little sweetheart: I chose this gift for you long before I had the right to do it. I was keeping i it until the proper moment. I5ut the moment came, mid went again. Still I want y u to hav# the gift, llense . wear it. for my sake, for I shall be happy knowing it is where it ought to i be, even though I myself am banished. ! I love you. Prudence. Whenever you send for me, I am ready to come. En tirely and always yours, Jerry." With trembling fingers she opened the little package. It contained a ring, with a brilliant diamond flashing my riad colors before her eyes. And Pru dence kissed It passionately, many times. Two hours later, she went quietly downstairs to where the rest of the family were decorating n Christmas tree. She showed the ring to them gravely. "Jerry sent It to me," she said. "Do you think it is all right for me to weur it, father?" A th?**.i of hopeful expectancy ran through the little group. * Yes. Indeed." declared her father. "How beautiful it is! Is Jerry coming to siM?nd Christinas with us?" "Why, no, father ? he Is not coming at all any more. 1 thought you under stood that." An awkward tiler.ce, and Carol came brightly to the rescue. "It certainly le a beauty! I thought It was very kind of Professor Duckie to send Lark and me a five-pound box of chocolates, but of course this is ever so much nicer. Jerry's u bird, I say." "A bird !" mocked Fairy. "Such lan guage." Lark car"t? to her twin's defense. "Yes, a bird ? that's just what he is." Carol smiled. "We saw him use hia wings wht u Connie yanked him out of the big maple, didn't we, Lark?" Then. "Did you send him anything, Prue?" Prudence hesitated, and answered without the slightest accession of col or, "Yes, Carol. I had my pictur# taken when I was in Uurlington, and sent it to him." "Your picture! Oh, Prudence! Where are they? Aren't you going to give us one?" "No, Carol. I had only one made ? for Jerry. There aren't any more." "Well," sighed Lark resignedly. "It's a pretty idea for my book, anyhow." From that day on Prudence always wore the sparkling ring ? and the wom en of the Methodist church nearly had mental paralysis marveling over a man who gave a diamond ring and never came a-wooing ! And a girl who accepted and wore his offering, with nothing to say for the man ! And it was the consensus of opinion in Mount Mark that modern lovers were mostly crazy, anyhow ! And springtime came again. Now the twins were always original in their amusements. They never fol lowed blindly after the dictates of cus tom. And when other girls played "catch" with dainty rubber balls, the twins took unto themselves a big and t j u. And Springtime Came Again. heavy croquet ball ? found in the Avery woodshed. To be sure, it stung and bruised their hands. What matter? At any rate, they continued endangering their lives and beauties by reckless pitching of the ungainly plaything. One Friday evening after school they were amusing themselves on tha parsonage lawn with this huge ball. When their father turned in, they ran up to him with a sporting proposition. "Bet you a nickel, papa," cried Carol, "that you can't throw this ball as far as the schoolhouse woodshed ! ? By the way, will you lend me a nickel, papa?" He took the ball rnd weighed it light ly in his hand. "I'm an anti-betting society," he declared, laughing, "but I very strongly believe it will carry to the schoolhouse woodshed. If it does not, I'll give you five cents' worth of candy tomorrow. And if it does, you shall put an extra nickel in the collec tion next Sunday." Then he drew back his arm and care fully sighted across the lawn. "I'll send it right between the corner of tha house and that little cedar," he said, and then, bending low, it whizzed from his hand. Lark screamed, and Carol sank faint ing to the ground. For an instant Mr. Starr himself stood swaging. Then he rushed across the lawn. For Prudence had opened the front door and stepped quickly out on the walk by the corner of the house. The heavy ball struck her on the forehead and she fell heav? ily, without a moan. (Continued next Tuesday.) { MS7HER SUPERIOR Says Vinol Creates Strength ftosnry Ilill Ilomo, Hawthorne, N. Y. ? "1 have used Vinol for many run down, weak or emaciated patients with ' benefit. One young woman was so weak \ and ill she could hardly creep to my door for aid. I Btippli) d Vinol to her bin-rally / and in a month I hardly recojmized her. , She was strong, her c;>lor charming and! her checks rounded out." ? Motuti II. / Ai.puonsa Lathkop, O. S. D. 1 We guarantee Vinol to sharpen thi ' appetite, aid digestion, enrich the blood J and create strength. HOOD BROS., Druggists, Smithfield, N. C. J / SEND ITS TEN CENTS AND We| will send you a copy of Turner'?/ North Cnrolina Almanac for 1917 j Herald Office, Smithfield, N. C. \
The Smithfield Herald (Smithfield, N.C.)
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March 20, 1917, edition 1
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