“From Des Moines,” he gasped.  “Good heavens!  I did not walk from Des Moines!  Did you—­” He turned to Prudence questioningly.  “Did you think I walked clear from Des Moines?”

“Yes.”  And added hastily, “But I did not care if you did.  It did not make any difference how you came.”

For a moment he was puzzled.  Then he burst out laughing.  “I am afraid we had too much to talk about this morning.  I thought I had explained my situation, but evidently I did not.  I drove from Des Moines in the car, and——­”

“The automobile!” gasped Carol, with a triumphant look at Lark.

“Yes, just so.  I stopped several places on business as I came through.  I drove from Burlington this morning, but I got off the road.  The car broke down on me, and I couldn’t fix it,—­broke an axle.  So I had to walk in.  That is what I was seeing about to-day,—­sending a man out for the car and arranging about the repairs.”  He smiled again.  “What in the world did you think I would walk from Des Moines for?” he asked Prudence, more inquisitive than grammatical.

“I did not think anything about it until they asked, and—­I did not know about the car.  You did not mention it.”

“No.  I remember now.  We were talking of other things all the time.”  He turned frankly to Mr. Starr.  “Perhaps you have heard of the Harmer Automobile Company, of Des Moines.  My father was Harvey Harmer.  Two years ago, when I was running around in Europe, he died.  It was his desire that I should personally take charge of the business.  So I hurried home, and have had charge of the company since then.  We are establishing sales agencies here, and in Burlington, and several other towns.  I came out for a little trip, and took advantage of the opportunity to discuss the business with our new men.  That’s what brought me to Mount Mark.”  To Connie he added laughingly, “So I must sacrifice myself, and do without your praise.  I did not walk until the car broke down and compelled me to do so.”

For the first time in her life, Prudence distinctly triumphed over her father.  She flashed him the glance of a conqueror, and he nodded, understandingly.  He liked Jerrold Harmer,—­as much as he could like any man who stepped seriously into the life of Prudence.  He was glad that things were well.  But—­they would excuse him, he must look after his Sunday’s sermons.

A little later the twins and Connie grew restless, and finally Connie blurted out, “Say, Prue, don’t you think we’ve upheld the parsonage long enough?  I want to get some fresh air.”  The twins would never have been guilty of such social indiscretion as this, but they gladly availed themselves of Connie’s “break,” and followed her out-of-doors.  Then Fairy got up, laughing.  “I have done my share, too.  I think we’ll leave the parsonage in your hands now, Prue.  I want to write to Aunt Grace.  I’ll be just at the head of the stairs, and if Prudence wants me, you will call, won’t you, Mr. Harmer?  And won’t you stay for dinner with us?  I’m sure to disgrace the parsonage again, for I am no cook, but you can get along for once, surely.  We spend more time laughing when the food is bad, and laughter is very healthful.  You will stay, won’t you?”