“You are a dear good father,” she cried, kissing his hands passionately, “but it was a lie.  I did know what I was saying.  I did it on purpose.”

And Mr. Starr’s heart was heavy, for he knew that his fears were realized.

CHAPTER XII

ROUSED FROM HER SLUMBER

At twenty minutes to four, the parsonage family clustered excitedly in the sitting-room, which the sunshine flooded cheerily.  They were waiting for the hero of Prudence’s romance.

“Oh, Larkie, will you run up-stairs and bring my lace handkerchief?  It’s on our dresser, in the burnt-wood box.”  And after Lark had departed, she went on, “The flowers are not quite in the center of the table, Fairy,—­a little to the right.—­If you would move the curtains the least little bit, those torn places would not show.”  Then she sighed.  “How nice you all look.  Oh, Connie, won’t you turn the clock a little this way, so I can see it?  That’s better, thank you, precious.  Thank you, Lark,—­isn’t it a pretty handkerchief?  I’ve only carried it three times, and I have never really used it.  Would you keep these pearls on, Fairy, or would you take them off?”

“I would keep them on, Prue,—­they catch the color of the gown a little, and are just beautiful.  You do look so sweet, but your face is very flushed.  I am afraid you are feverish.  Maybe we had better not let him see Prue to-day, father.  Perhaps he can come back to-morrow.”

“Fairy!” exclaimed Prudence.  “Besides, he must come in to get his coat.  We can’t expect him to go coatless over Sunday.  Listen,—­listen, girls!  Look, Fairy, and see if that is he!  Yes, it is, I know,—­I can tell by his walk.”  Warm rich color dyed her face and throat, and she clasped her hands over her heart, wondering if Connie beside her could hear its tumult.

“I’ll go to the door,” said Father Starr, and Prudence looked at him beseechingly.

“I—­I am sure he is all right, father.  I—­you will be nice to him, won’t you?”

Without answering, Mr. Starr left the room.  He could not trust his voice.

“Listen, girls, I want to hear,” whispered Prudence.  And she smiled as she heard her father’s cordial voice.

“You are Mr. Harmer, aren’t you?  I am Prudence’s father.  Come right in.  The whole family is assembled to do you honor.  The girls have already made you a prince in disguise.  Come back this way.  Prudence is resting very nicely.”

When the two men stepped into the sitting-room, Prudence, for once, quite overlooked her father.  She lifted her eyes to Jerrold Harmer’s face, and waited, breathless.  Nor was he long in finding her among the bevy of girls.  He walked at once to the bed, and took her hand.

“My little comrade of the road,” he said gaily, but with tenderness, “I am afraid you are not feeling well enough for callers to-day.”