“No, indeed.  He’s a bachelor.”

“Maybe he didn’t love her, after all.”

Here Carol chimed in helpfully.  “Oh, yes, he did, for we left him kissing her all over the back yard, and he wouldn’t have done that if he hadn’t loved her, you know.”

Prudence’s eyes twinkled a little, but her smile was sad.

“Now, what would you advise us to do?” inquired Lark briskly, feeling instinctively that Carol had explained too much.

Prudence rose slowly.  “I think,” she said very gently, “I think I would burn the book if I were you, and pay a little more attention to my studies.”

Then she went up-stairs, and Carol told Lark sympathetically that they did not deserve an authoress in the parsonage when they didn’t give her any more encouragement than that!

On the day before Christmas, an insured package was delivered at the parsonage for Prudence.  A letter was with it, and she read that first.

“My dearest little sweetheart:  I chose this gift for you long before I had the right to do it.  I was keeping it until the proper moment.  But the moment came, and went again.  Still I want you to have the gift.  Please wear it, for my sake, for I shall be happy knowing it is where it ought to be, even though I myself am banished.  I love you, Prudence.  Whenever you send for me, I am ready to come.  Entirely and always yours.  Jerry.”

With trembling fingers she opened the little package.  It contained a ring, with a brilliant diamond flashing myriad colors before her eyes.  And Prudence kissed it passionately, many times.

Two hours later, she went quietly down-stairs to where the rest of the family were decorating a Christmas tree.  She showed the ring to them gravely.

“Jerry sent it to me,” she said.  “Do you think it is all right for me to wear it, father?”

A thrill of hopeful expectancy ran through the little group.

“Yes, indeed,” declared her father.  “How beautiful it is!  Is Jerry coming to spend Christmas with us?”

“Why, no, father,—­he is not coming at all any more.  I thought you understood that.”

An awkward silence, and Carol came brightly to the rescue.  “It certainly is a beauty!  I thought it was very kind of Professor Duckie to send Lark and me a five-pound box of chocolates, but of course this is ever so much nicer.  Jerry’s a bird, I say.”

“A bird!” mocked Fairy.  “Such language.”

Lark came to her twin’s defense.  “Yes, a bird,—­that’s just what he is.”

Carol smiled.  “We saw him use his wings when Connie yanked him out of the big maple, didn’t we, Lark?” Then, “Did you send him anything, Prue?”

Prudence hesitated, and answered without the slightest accession of color, “Yes, Carol.  I had my picture taken when I was in Burlington, and sent it to him.”

“Your picture!  Oh, Prudence!  Where are they?  Aren’t you going to give us one?”