CHAPTER VI

AN ADMIRER

It must be remembered that Prudence did not live in a sheltered and exclusive city home, where girls are rigidly withheld from all unchaperoned intercourse with young men and old.  We know how things are managed in the “best homes” of the big cities,—­girls are sheltered from innocent open things, and, too often, indulge in really serious amusements on the quiet.  But this was the Middle West, where girls are to be trusted.  Not all girls, of course, but as a matter of fact, the girls who need watching, seldom get enough of it to keep them out of mischief.  Out in Iowa, girls and boys are allowed to like each other, and revel in each other’s company.  And it is good for both.

Prudence was not a sentimental girl.  Perhaps this was partly due to the fact that at the age when most girls are head-full of boy, Prudence was hands-full of younger sisters!  And when hands are full to overflowing, there is small likelihood of heads being full of nonsense.  Prudence liked boys as she liked girls,—­that was the end of it.  Romance was to her a closed book, and she felt no inclination to peep between the covers.  Soul-stirring had not come to her yet.

But Prudence was attractive.  She had that indescribable charm that carries a deep appeal to the eyes, and the lips, and the hearts of men.  Happily Prudence herself did not realize this.  The first young man of Mount Mark to yield to the charms of Prudence was a serious-minded lawyer, nearly ten years her senior.  This was just the type of man to become enraptured with Prudence.  He gazed across at her solemnly during the church service.  He waited patiently after the benediction until she finished her Methodist practise of hand-shaking, and then walked joyously home with her.  He said little, but he gazed in frank enchantment at the small womanly girl beside him.

“He’s not half bad, Fairy,” Prudence would confide to her sister when they were snug in their bed.  “He’s not half bad at all.  But at heart, he doesn’t approve of me.  He doesn’t know that himself, and I certainly can’t believe it is my duty to tell him.  But I am convinced that it is true.  For instance, he thinks every one, especially women, should have a mission in life, a serious, earnest mission.  I told him I didn’t believe anything of the kind,—­I think we are just supposed to live along from day to day and do what we can, and be happy, and not say mean things about one another.  But he said he considered that I was fulfilling the noblest mission a woman could have.  Now what do you reckon he meant by that, Fairy?  I’ve been puzzling my brain over it for days and days.  Anybody can tell I am not the sort of girl to have a mission!  Maybe he just said it to encourage me,—­he’s a very encouraging sort of man.  He’s very nice,—­oh, very nice, indeed!  But isn’t it a nuisance to have him tagging along home with me, when I might