That was the beginning of Prudence’s bitter winter, when the brightest sunshine was cheerless and dreary, and when even the laughter of her sisters smote harshly upon her ears.  She tried to be as always, but in her eyes the wounded look lingered, and her face grew so pale and thin that her father and Fairy, anxiously watching, were filled with grave concern.  She remained almost constantly in the parsonage, reading very little, sitting most of her leisure time staring out the windows.

Fairy had tried to win her confidence, and had failed.

“You are a darling, Fairy, but I really do not want to talk about it.—­Oh, no, indeed, it is all my own fault.  I told him to go, and not come again.—­No, you are wrong, Fairy, I do not regret it.  I do not want him to come any more.”

And Fairy worried.  What in the world had happened to separate in the morning these two who had been kissing so frankly in the back yard the evening before?

Mr. Starr, too, had tried.  “Prudence,” he said gently, “you know very often men do things that to women seem wrong and wicked.  And maybe they are!  But men and women are different by nature, my dear, and we must remember that.  I have satisfied myself that Jerry is good, and clean, and manly.  I do not think you should let any foolishness of his in the past, come between you now.”

“You are mistaken, father.  Jerry is all right, and always was, I am sure.  It is nothing like that.  I told him to go, and not to come again.  That is all.”

“But if he should come back now——­”

“It would be just the same.  Don’t worry about it, father.  It’s all right.”

“Prudence,” he said, more tenderly, “we have been the closest of friends and companions, you and I, from the very beginning.  Always you have come to me with your troubles and worries.  Have I ever failed you?  Why, then, do you go back on me now, when you really need me?”

Prudence patted his shoulder affectionately, but her eyes did not meet his.  “I do not really need you now, father.  It is all settled, and I am quite satisfied.  Things are all right with me just as they are.”

Then he took a serious step, without her knowledge.  He went to Des Moines, and had a visit with Jerry.  He found him thinner, his face sterner, his eyes darker.  When the office boy announced “Mr. Starr,” Jerry ran quickly out to greet him.

“Is she all right?” he cried eagerly, almost before he was within hailing distance.

Mr. Starr did not mince matters.  “Jerry,” he said abruptly, “did you and Prudence have a quarrel?  She declines to tell me anything about it, and after the conversations you and I have had, I think I have a right to know what has happened.”

“Does she miss me?  Does she seem sorry that I am away?  Does——­” His voice was so boyish and so eager there was no mistaking his attitude toward Prudence.