In a shadowy corner was a slender figure kneeling beside an overturned nail keg, her face buried in her hands.  Evidently this was Prudence engaged in prayer,—­and in the barn, of all places in the world!

“A—­a—­a—­hem!” stammered Mrs. Adams inquiringly.

“Amen!” This was spoken aloud and hurriedly, and Prudence leaped to her feet.  Her fair hair clung about her face in damp babyish tendrils, and her face was flushed and dusty, but alight with friendly interest.  She ran forward eagerly, thrusting forth a slim and grimy hand.

“You are Mrs. Adams, aren’t you?  I am Prudence Starr.  It is so kind of you to come the very first day,” she cried.  “It makes me love you right at the start.”

“Ye—­yes, I am Mrs. Adams.”  Mrs. Adams was embarrassed.  She could not banish from her mental vision that kneeling figure by the nail keg.  Interrogation was written all over her ample face, and Prudence promptly read it and hastened to reply.

“I do not generally say my prayers in the barn, Mrs. Adams, I assure you.  I suppose you were greatly surprised.  I didn’t expect to do it myself, when I came out here, but—­well, when I found this grand, old, rambling barn, I was so thankful I couldn’t resist praying about it.  Of course, I didn’t specially designate the barn, but God knew what I meant, I am sure.”

“But a barn!” ejaculated the perplexed “member.”  “Do you call that a blessing?”

“Yes, indeed I do,” declared Prudence.  Then she explained patiently:  “Oh, it is on the children’s account, you know.  They have always longed for a big romantic barn to play in.  We’ve never had anything but a shed, and when father went to Conference this year, the twins told him particularly to look out for a good big barn.  They said we’d be willing to put up with any kind of a parsonage, if only we might draw a barn for once.  You can’t imagine how happy this dear old place will make them, and I was happy on their account.  That’s why I couldn’t resist saying my prayers,—­I was so happy I couldn’t hold in.”

As they walked slowly toward the house, Mrs. Adams looked at this parsonage girl in frank curiosity and some dismay, which she strongly endeavored to conceal from the bright-eyed Prudence.  The Ladies had said it would be so nice to have a grown girl in the parsonage!  Prudence was nineteen from all account, but she looked like a child and—­well, it was not exactly grown-up to give thanks for a barn, to say the very least!  Yet this girl had full charge of four younger children, and was further burdened with the entire care of a minister-father!  Well, well!  Mrs. Adams sighed a little.

“You are tired,” said Prudence sympathetically.  “It’s so hot walking, isn’t it?  Let’s sit on the porch until you are nicely rested.  Isn’t this a lovely yard?  And the children will be so happy to have this delicious big porch.  Oh, I just adore Mount Mark already.”