'Then why do I have to go and tell him?' asked Prudence Jane.
'Prudence Jane,' said Aunt Annie, 'you are a very saucy little girl, and I'm sure I don't know what is going to become of you.'
Prudence Jane walked slowly out of the room. She was considering what Aunt Annie had said about ministers, and she wondered if it were true. As she went tripping down the stairs she decided to put the Reverend Mr. Sanders to a test the very next time she met him. And that was why it was so surprising, when she peeked through the hall window at the foot of the stairs, to behold him diligently wiping his feet on the door-mat.
'How do you do?' said Prudence Jane politely, as she opened the door.
'Why, good afternoon, Imogen,' said the minister, shaking hands cordially.
Prudence Jane made the little knix that she had learned at German school. It was always the finishing touch to Prudence Jane. The Reverend Mr. Sanders looked down upon it with a most friendly smile.
'Is your aunt at home?' he asked, placing his hat on the table and following Prudence Jane into the parlor.
'Yes,' she said with simple candor. A fib of that sort was quite beneath Prudence Jane.
Then she sat down on a velvet sofa, spread out her little blue skirt, folded her hands in her lap and crossed her ankle-ties. She had never in her life looked so much like little Bertie. The Reverend Mr. Sanders, regarding her from an opposite chair, waited for her to open her lips and say, 'Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth.' Instead, this is what she said:—
'Is Eliza Anna Bomination your grandmother?'