Part 19 (1/2)

The stew was steaming hot, and the three gathered sociably about the table. Prudence was talking. Fairy was pa.s.sing the ”crackers,”--Prudence kicked her foot gently beneath the table, to remind her that etiquette calls them ”wafers.” So it happened that Babbie was first to taste the steaming stew. He gasped, and gulped, and swallowed some water with more haste than grace. Then he toyed idly with spoon and wafer until Prudence tasted also. Prudence did not gasp. She did not cry out. She looked up at her sister with wide hurt eyes,--a world of pathos in the glance. But Fairy did not notice.

”Now, please do not ask me to talk until I have finished my soup,” she was saying brightly, ”I simply can not think and appreciate oyster stew at the same time.”

Then she appreciated it! She dropped her spoon with a great clatter, and jumped up from the table. ”Mercy!” she shrieked. ”It is poisoned!”

Babbie leaned back in his chair and laughed until his eyes were wet.

Prudence's eyes were wet, too, but not from laughter! What would etiquette think of her, after this?

”What did you do to this soup, Prudence?” demanded Fairy.

”I made it,--nothing else,” faltered poor Prudence, quite crushed by this blow. And oysters forty cents a pint!

”It's pepper, I think,” gasped Babbie. ”My insides bear startling testimony to the presence of pepper.”

And he roared again, while Prudence began a critical examination of the oysters. She found them literally stuffed with pepper, there was no doubt of it. The twins had done deadly work! Their patience, at least, was commendable,--it seemed that not one oyster had escaped their attention. The entire pint had been ruined by the pepper.

”Revenge, ye G.o.ds, how sweet,” chanted Fairy. ”The twins are getting even with a vengeance,--the same twins you said were adorable, Babbie.”

It must be said for Fairy that her good nature could stand almost anything. Even this did not seriously disturb her. ”Do you suppose you can find us some milk, Prue? And crackers! I'm so fond of crackers and milk, aren't you, Babbie?”

”Oh, I adore it. But serve a microscope with it, please. I want to examine it for microbes before I taste.”

But Prudence did better than that. She made some delicious cocoa, and opened a can of pear preserves, donated to the parsonage by the amiable Mrs. Adams. The twins were very fond of pear preserves, and had been looking forward to eating these on their approaching birthday. They were doomed to disappointment! The three had a merry little feast, after all, and their laughter rang out so often and so unrestrainedly that the twins shook in their beds with rage and disappointment.

Mr. Starr came in while they were eating, and joined them genially.

But afterward, when Prudence realized that etiquette called for their retirement, her father still sat complacently by the register, talking and laughing. Prudence fastened her eyes upon him.

”Well, I must honestly go to bed,” she said, gazing hypnotically at her father. ”I know you will excuse me. I must store up my strength to deal with the twins in the morning.”

She got up from her chair, and moved restlessly about the room, still boring her father with her eyes. He did not move. She paused beside him, and slipped her hand under his elbow.

”Now, father,” she said gaily, ”we must put our heads together, and think out a proper punishment for the awful creatures.”

Her hand was uplifting, and Mr. Starr rose with it. Together they left the room with cordial good nights, and inviting Mr. Babler to ”try the parsonage again.” Prudence listened outside the twins' door, and heard them breathing loudly. Then she went to her own room, and snuggling down beneath the covers, laughed softly to herself.

”Etiquette!” she gurgled. ”Etiquette! There's no room for such a thing in a parsonage,--I see that!”

It speaks well for the courage of Babbie, and the attractions of Fairy, that he came to the parsonage again and again. In time he became the best of friends with the twins themselves, but he always called them ”the adorables,” and they never asked him why. The punishment inflicted upon them by Prudence rankled in their memories for many months. Indeed, upon that occasion, Prudence fairly surpa.s.sed herself in the ingenuity she displayed. The twins considered themselves very nearly as grown-up as Fairy, and the fact that she was a young lady, and they were children, filled their hearts with bitterness. They never lost an opportunity of showing their independence where she was concerned. And with marvelous insight, Prudence used Fairy as her weapon of punishment,--in fact, the twins called Fairy the ”ducking-stool” for many days.

”The offense was against Fairy,” said Prudence, with a solemnity she did not feel, ”and the reparation must be done to her. For three weeks, you must do all of her bedroom work, and run every errand she requires. Moreover, you must keep her shoes well cleaned and nicely polished, and must do every bit of her darning!”

The twins would have preferred whipping a thousand times. They felt they had got a whipping's worth of pleasure out of their mischief! But a punishment like this sat heavily upon their proud young shoulders, and from that time on they held Fairy practically immune from their pranks.

But Prudence did not bother her head about etiquette after that experience. ”I'm strong for comfort,” she declared, ”and since the two can not live together in our family, I say we do without etiquette.”

And Fairy nodded in agreement, smiling good-naturedly.

CHAPTER VIII

THE FIRST DARK SHADOW OF WINTER

Prudence and Fairy stood in the bay window of the sitting-room, and looked out at the thickly falling snow. Already the ground was whitely carpeted, and the low-branched peach trees just outside the parsonage windows were beginning to bow down beneath their burdens.