“Yes,—­unfortunately for Connie.  They do it on purpose to escape the handed-downs!  They won’t even have hair ribbons different.  And the result is that poor Connie never gets one new thing except shoes.  She says she can not help thanking the Lord in her prayers, that all of us outwear our shoes before we can outgrow them.—­Connie is only nine.  Fairy is sixteen, and the twins are thirteen.  They are a very clever lot of girls.  Fairy, as I told you, is just naturally smart, and aims to be a college professor.  Lark is an intelligent studious girl, and is going to be an author.  Carol is pretty, and lovable, and kind-hearted, and witty,—­but not deep.  She is going to be a Red Cross nurse and go to war.  The twins have it all planned out.  Carol is going to war as a Red Cross nurse, and Lark is going, too, so she can write a book about it, and they are both going to marry soldiers,—­preferably dashing young generals!  Now they can hardly wait for war to break out.  Connie is a sober, odd, sensitive little thing, and hasn’t decided whether she wants to be a foreign missionary, or get married and have ten children.—­But they are all clever, and I’m proud of every one of them.”

“And what are you going to be?” inquired Mrs. Adams, looking with real affection at the bright sweet face.

But Prudence laughed.  “Oh, dear me, Mrs. Adams, seems to me if I just get the others raised up properly, I’ll have my hands full.  I used to have aims, dozens of them.  Now I have just one, and I’m working at it every day.”

“You ought to go to school,” declared Mrs. Adams.  “You’re just a girl yourself.”

“I don’t want to go to school,” laughed Prudence.  “Not any more.  I like it, just taking care of father and the girls,—­with Fairy to keep me balanced!  I read, but I do not like to study.—­No, you’ll have to get along with me just the way I am, Mrs. Adams.  It’s all I can do to keep things going now, without spending half the time dreaming of big things to do in the future.”

“Don’t you have dreams?” gasped Mrs. Adams.  “Don’t you have dreams of the future?  Girls in books nowadays dream——­”

“Yes, I dream,” interrupted Prudence, “I dream lots,—­but it’s mostly of what Fairy and the others will do when I get them properly raised.  You’ll like the girls, Mrs. Adams, I know you will.  They really are a gifted little bunch,—­except me.  But I don’t mind.  It’s a great honor for me to have the privilege of bringing up four clever girls to do great things,—­don’t you think?  And I’m only nineteen myself!  I don’t see what more a body could want.”

“It seems to me,” said Mrs. Adams, “that I know more about your sisters than I do about you.  I feel more acquainted with them right now, than with you.”

“That’s so, too,” said Prudence, nodding.  “But they are the ones that really count, you know.  I’m just common little Prudence of the Parsonage,—­but the others!” And Prudence flung out her hands dramatically.