"Do you, Prudence?—You look so sweet this afternoon. I nearly blurted it out before the whole family. Wouldn't the twins have laughed? It would have disgraced the parsonage. I think Mr. Starr is awfully lucky to have five girls, and all of them pretty. But isn't it strange that the prettiest and dearest one of them all should be the oldest daughter?"
"Oh, but I'm not really—" Prudence began earnestly. Then she stopped, and added honestly, "But I am glad you think so."
No, they did not quote poetry, they did not discuss the psychological intricacies of spontaneous attraction, they did not say anything deep, or wise, or learned. But they smiled at each other, with pleased investigating eyes. He put his hand on the coverlet, just near enough to touch the lace on the sleeve of her silk dressing gown. And together they found Paradise in the shabby sitting-room of the old Methodist parsonage that afternoon.
"Must you prepare meat for breading half an hour before cooking, or when?" demanded Fairy, from the dining-room door.
"What?—Oh!—Fifteen minutes before. Don't forget to salt and pepper the crumbs, Fairy."
"Perhaps some time your father will let you and a couple of the others come to Des Moines with me in the car. You would enjoy a few days there, I know. I live with my aunt, a dear, motherly little old soul. She will adore you, Prudence, and you will like her, too. Would your father let you spend a week? We can easily drive back and forth in the car."
"Maybe he will,—but who will keep the parsonage while I am away?"
"Fairy, to be sure. She must be a good fairy once in a while. We can take the twins with us, Connie, too, if you like, and then Fairy will only have to mother your father. Do you like riding in a car?"
"Oh, I love it. But I have not ridden very much. Willard Morley took me quite often when he was here, but he is in Chicago now."
"When's he coming back?" suspiciously.