"
Indeed, it was nearly noon when a small, one-horse spring wagon drove
into the parsonage yard. Mr. Starr was in his study with a book, but he
heard a piercing shriek from Connie, and a shrill "Prudence!" from one of
the twins. He was downstairs in three leaps, and rushing wildly out to
the little rickety wagon. And there was Prudence!
"Don't be frightened, father. I've just sprained my ankle, and it
doesn't hurt hardly any. But the bicycle is broken,--we'll have to pay
for it. You can use my own money in the bank. Poor Mr. Davis had to
walk all the way to town, because there wasn't any room for him in the
wagon with me lying down like this. Will you carry me in?"
Connie's single bed was hastily brought downstairs, and Prudence
deposited upon it. "There's no use to put me up-stairs," she assured
them. "I won't stay there. I want to be down here where I can boss the
girls."
The doctor came in, and bandaged the swollen purple ankle. Then they had
dinner,--they tried to remember to call it luncheon, but never succeeded!
After that, the whole parsonage family grouped about the little single
bed in the cheery sitting-room.
"Whose coat is this, Prudence?" asked Connie.
"And where in the world did you get these towels and silk shirts?" added
Fairy.
Prudence blushed most exquisitely. "They are Mr. Harmer's," she said,
and glanced nervously at her father.
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