id Prudence slowly, "I am afraid it would not do for me to ride
now. Some of the members might see me, and--well, I am very grown up,
you know.--Of course," she added hastily, "it is different with you. You
ride for business, but it would be nothing but a frolic with me. I want
to get up at six o'clock and go early in the morning when the world is
fast asleep. Let me take it to-morrow morning, will you? It is
Saturday, and you won't be going to school."

"Yes, of course you may," was the hearty answer. "You may stay out as
long as you like. I'm going to sew to-morrow. You make take it in the
parsonage now and keep it until morning. I always sleep late on
Saturdays."

So Prudence delightedly tripped up the parsonage board walk, wheeling the
bicycle by her side. She hid it carefully in the woodshed, for the twins
were rash and venturesome. But after she had gone to bed, she confided
her plan to Fairy.

"I'm going at six o'clock, and I'll be back in time to get breakfast.
But as you know, Fairy, my plans do not always work out as I intend, so
if I am a little late, you'll get breakfast for papa and the girls, like
a dear, won't you?"

Fairy promised. And early the next morning, Prudence, in a plain gingham
house dress, with the addition of a red sweater jacket and cap for
warmth, set out upon her secret ride. It was a magnificent morning, and
Prudence sang for pure delight as she rode swiftly along the country
roads. The country was simply irresistible. It was almost intoxicating.
And Prudence rode farther than she had intended. East and west, north
and south, she went, apparently guided only by her own caprice. She knew
it was growing late, "but Fairy'll get breakfast," she thought
comfortably.

Finally she turned in a by-road, leading between two rich hickory groves.
Dismounting at the top of a long hill, she gazed anxiously around her.
No one was in sight. The nearest house was two miles behind, and the
road was long, and smooth, and inviting, and the hill was steep.
Prudence yearned for a good, soul-stirring coast, with her feet high up
on the framework of the wheel, and the pedals flying around beneath her
skirts. This was not the new and modern model of bicycle. The pedals on
Mattie Moore's wheel revolved, whether one worked them or not.

It seemed safe. The road sloped down gradually at the bottom, with an
incline on the other side. What more could one desire. The only living
thing in s