east ardent and
most prosaic of Jerrold's letters. But she never asked herself the
reason. It seemed a positive sacrilege to leave his warm, life-pulsing
letters up-stairs in a bureau drawer. It was only natural and right to
carry them in her dress, and to sleep with them under her pillow. But
Prudence did not wonder why. The days when Jerry came were tremulously
happy ones for her,--she was all aquiver when she heard him swinging
briskly up the ramshackle parsonage walk, and her breath was
suffocatingly hot. But she took it as a matter of course. The nights
when Jerry slept in the little spare bedroom at the head of the stairs,
Prudence lay awake, staring joyously into the darkness, hoping Jerry
was sound asleep and comfortable. But she never asked herself why she
could not sleep! She knew that Jerry's voice was the sweetest voice in
the world. She knew that his eyes were the softest and brightest and
the most tender. She knew that his hands had a thrilling touch quite
different from the touch of ordinary, less dear hands. She knew that
his smile lifted her into a delirium of delight, and that even the
thought of sorrow coming to him brought stinging tears to her eyes.
But why? Ah, Prudence never thought of that. She just lived in the
sweet ecstatic dream of the summer, and was well and richly content.

So the vacation passed, and Indian summer came. And the girls went
back to their studies once more, reluctantly, yet unaccountably glad
even in their reluctance. It is always that way with students,--real
students. They regret the passing of vacation days, but the thought of
"going back to school" has its own tingling joys of anticipation.

It was Saturday evening. The early supper at the parsonage was over,
the twins had washed the dishes, and still the daylight lingered.
Prudence and Jerry sat side by side, and closely, on the front porch,
talking in whispers. Fairy had gone for a stroll with the still
faithful Babbie. Connie and the twins had evidently vanished. Ah--not
quite that! Carol and Lark came swiftly around the corner of the
parsonage.

"Good evening," said Lark politely, and Prudence sat up abruptly. The
twins never wasted politeness! They wanted something.

"Do you mind if we take Jerry around by the woodshed for a few minutes,
Prue?"

"I'll come along," said Prudence, rising.

"Oh, no," protested Lark, "we do not want you,--just Jerry, and only
for a little while."

Pruden