“Let’s not talk any more about it, Jerry.  Please.  I’ll wait until you come down.”

When he came down a little later, with his suitcase, his face was white and strained.

She put her arms around his neck.  “Jerry,” she whispered, “I want to tell you that I love you so much that—­I could go away with you, and never see any of them any more, or papa, or the parsonage, and still feel rich, if I just had you!  You—­everything in me seems to be all yours.  I—­love you.”

Her tremulous lips were pressed against his.

“Oh, sweetheart, this is folly, all folly.  But I can’t make you see it.  It is wrong, it is wickedly wrong, but——­”

“But I am all they have, Jerry, and—­I promised.”

“Whenever you want me, Prudence, just send.  I’ll never change.  I’ll always be just the same.  God intended you for me, I know, and—­I’ll be waiting.”

“Jerry!  Jerry!  Jerry!” she whispered passionately, sobbing, quivering in his arms.  It was he who drew away.

“Good-by, sweetheart,” he said quietly, great pity in his heart for the girl who in her desire to do right was doing such horrible wrong.  “Good-by, sweetheart.  Remember, I will be waiting.  Whenever you send, I will come.”

He stepped outside, and closed the door.  Prudence stood motionless, her hands clenched, until she could no longer hear his footsteps.  Then she dropped on the floor, and lay there, face downward, until she heard Fairy moving in her room up-stairs.  Then she went into the kitchen and built the fire for breakfast.

CHAPTER XIV

SHE COMES TO GRIEF

Fairy was one of those buoyant, warm-blooded girls to whom sleep is indeed the great restorer.  She slept soundly, sweetly, dreamlessly.  And every morning she ran down-stairs so full of animation and life that she seemed all atingle to her finger-tips.  Now she stood in the kitchen door, tall, cheeks glowing, eyes sparkling, and smiled at her sister’s solemn back.

“You are the little mousey, Prue,” she said, in her full rich voice.  “I didn’t hear you come to bed last night, and I didn’t hear you getting out this morning.  I am an abominably solid sleeper, am I not?  Shall I get the maple sirup for the pancakes?  I wonder if Jerry knows we only use maple sirup when he is here.  I’m constantly expecting Connie to give it away.  Why am I always so ravenously hungry in the morning?  Goodness knows I eat enough—­Why, what is the matter?” For Prudence had turned her face toward her sister, and it was so white and so unnatural that Fairy was shocked.

“Prudence!  You are sick!  Go to bed and let me get breakfast.  Why didn’t you call me?  I’m real angry at you, Prudence Starr!  Here, get out of this, and I will——­”

“There’s nothing the matter with me.  I had a headache, and did not sleep, but I am all right now.  Yes, bring the sirup, Fairy.  Are the girls up yet?”