Part 6 (2/2)
”I ain't Prudy!” screamed the child; ”Prudy's gone to heaven. G.o.d came and helped her up the steps.”
One of the first things Mrs. Parlin did was to cut off her little daughter's beautiful curls, and lay them tenderly away in a drawer.
”Ah, sister Madge,” said she, ”you can't guess how it makes my heart ache to have my child take me for a stranger.”
”Perhaps she may know you to-morrow,” said aunt Madge; though in her heart she had very little hope of the child.
But Prudy did not know any body ”to-morrow,” nor the next day, nor the next. O, the long, weary time that they watched by her bed! The terrible disease seemed to be drinking up her life. Her cheeks looked as if fierce fires were hidden in them, and when she raved so wildly her eyes shone like flames.
A deep hush had fallen on the house. Grace and Susy would go and sit by the hour in their seat in the trees, and talk about dear little Prudy. Horace had the heartache, too, and asked every day,--
”_Do_ you think she's going to die?”
n.o.body could answer him, and he had to wait, like all the rest.
But G.o.d did not mean that Prudy should die. At last, after many days, the fever died out like a fire when it has burned the wood all down to cinders. Then there was a pale little girl left, who looked as if a breath would blow her away like white ashes. I think a little baby, that tips over if you touch it, could not be weaker than Prudy was when she began to get well.
Ah, but it was so joyful to see her own sweet smile once more, though never so faint! And every low word she spoke now dropped from her lips like a note of music.
Her father and mother, and the whole family, were full of joy, and Grace and Susy went to their cosy seat in the trees to talk over the pretty things they were going to make for Prudy when she should be well enough to enjoy them.
CHAPTER VII
PRUDY'S PRESENT
”Well, dear,” said grandma, coming up stairs one morning, all out of breath, ”what did you call me for? What do you want, little one?”
”I don't know,” said Prudy, ”but I guess _I shall_ want somethin' by and by.”
”There, there, darling,” said grandma, ”don't cry.”
”No, I won't,” said Prudy, trying to stop. ”I was a-talkin' to myself, and I said, 'I won't cry no more,' and then I cried. I don't like to stay in this country, grandma, 'thout I can have somethin' to eat!”
”Of all things,” said grandma, ”I don't believe there's a little girl any where that has so many nice things as you do. See the jelly, and oranges, and lemons, and----”
”Well, if I wasn't sick, grandma, and you should ask me to eat some _smashed potatoes_, and some _pie_, I'd eat 'em,” said Prudy, smiling through her tears.
”Bless your little heart,” cried grandma, kissing Prudy's pale cheek.
”Can't you think of something besides eating? What pretty thing shall I bring you to look at?”
”O, now I know what it is I want,” replied Prudy, lifting her head from the pillow, ”I want to eat up the _old lady_!”
Prudy was thinking of a little image aunt Madge had formed out of candy.
”O, that's made to be looked at,” said grandma. ”Let's see--where do you suppose your little Zip is nowadays? I guess he misses Prudy.”
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