"She read 'The Children of the Lord's
Supper' to me last night."
Miss Prudence moved the fan backward and forward and studied the
sleeping, innocent face. I had almost written "sweet" again; I can
scarcely think of her face, as it was then, without writing sweet. It
would be long, Miss Prudence mused, before lines and creases intruded
here and there in that smooth forehead, and in the tinted cheeks that
dimpled at the least provocation; but life would bring them in time, and
they would add beauty if there were no bitterness nor hardness in them.
If the Holy Spirit dwelt in the temple of the body were not the lines
upon the face his handwriting? She knew more than one old face that
was growing more attractive with each year of life.
The door was pushed open and Mrs. West's broad shoulders and motherly
face appeared. Miss Prudence smiled and laid her finger on her lips and,
smiling, too, the mother moved away. Linnet, in her kitchen apron, and
with the marks of the morning's baking on her fingers, next looked in,
nodded and ran away. After awhile, the sleeping eyelids quivered and
lifted themselves; a quick flush, a joyous exclamation and Marjorie
sprang into her friend's arms.
"I _felt_ as if I were not alone! How long have you been here? Oh, why
_didn't_ you speak to me or touch me?"
"I wanted to have the pleasure all on my side. I never saw you asleep
before."
"I hope I didn't keep my mouth open and snore."
"Oh, no, your lips were gently apart and you breathed regularly as they
would say in books!"
Marjorie laughed, released Miss Prudence from the tight clasp and went
back to her chair.
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