Prudence of the Parsonage   By: Ethel Hueston (1887-)

by

ETHEL HUESTON

With Illustrations by Arthur William Brown

[Frontispiece: "What did you put in this soup, Prudence?"]

New York Grosset & Dunlap Publishers Copyright 1915 The Bobbs Merrill Company

TO MY MOTHER

WHO DEVOTED HER LIFE TO REARING

A WHOLE PARSONAGE FULL OF ROLLICKING

YOUNG METHODISTS

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I INTRODUCING HER II THE REST OF THE FAMILY III THE LADIES' AID IV A SECRET SOCIETY V THE TWINS STICK UP FOR THE BIBLE VI AN ADMIRER VII LESSONS IN ETIQUETTE VIII THE FIRST DARK SHADOW OF WINTER IX PRACTISING ECONOMY X A BURGLAR'S VISIT XI ROMANCE COMES XII ROUSED FROM HER SLUMBER XIII SHE ORDERS HER LIFE XIV SHE COMES TO GRIEF XV FATE TAKES CHARGE

ILLUSTRATIONS

"What did you put in this soup, Prudence?" . . . . Frontispiece

"If you'll shut the door one minute, we'll have everything exactly as you left it."

"Yes, and have refreshments for just you two?"

"She predicted I'm to fall in love with you."

PRUDENCE OF THE PARSONAGE

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCING HER

None but the residents consider Mount Mark, Iowa, much of a town, and those who are honest among them admit, although reluctantly, that Mount Mark can boast of far more patriotism than good judgment! But the very most patriotic of them all has no word of praise for the ugly little red C., B. & Q. railway station. If pretty is as pretty does, as we have been told so unpleasantly often, then the station is handsome enough, but as an ornament to the commonwealth it is a dismal failure, low, smoky and dust grimed. In winter its bleakness and bareness add to the chill of the rigorous Iowa temperature, and in summer the sap oozing through the boards is disagreeably suggestive of perspiration. The waiting room itself is "cleaned" every day, and yet the same dust lies in the corners where it has lain for lo, these many years. And as for the cobwebs, their chief distinction lies in their ripe old age. If there were only seven spiders in the ark, after the subsiding of the waters, at least a majority of them must have found their way to Mount Mark station in South eastern Iowa.

Mount Mark is anything but proud of the little station. It openly scoffs at it, and sniffs contemptuously at the ticket agent who bears the entire C., B. & Q. reputation upon his humble shoulders. At the same time, it certainly does owe the railroad and the state a debt of gratitude for its presence there. It is the favorite social rendezvous for the community! Only four passenger trains daily pass through Mount Mark, not including the expresses, which rush haughtily by with no more than a scornful whistle for the sleepy town, and in return for this indignity, Mount Mark cherishes a most unchristian antipathy toward those demon fliers.

But the "passengers" ah, that is a different matter. 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 enthusiastic gathering of "our best people." All that is lacking are the proverbial "light refreshments!"

So it happened that one sultry morning, late in the month of August, there was the usual flutter of excitement and confusion on the platform and in the waiting room of the station. The habitués were there in force. Conspicuous among them were four gaily dressed young men, smoking cigarettes and gazing with lack luster eyes upon the animated scene, which evidently bored them. All the same, they invariably appeared at the depot to witness this event, stirring to others no doubt, but incapable of arousing the interest of these life weary youths. They comprised the Slaughter house Quartette, and were the most familiar and notorious characters in all the town.