Prudence of the Parsonage 
 
The Project Gutenberg eBook, Prudence of the Parsonage, by Ethel 
Hueston, Illustrated by Arthur William Brown 
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Title: Prudence of the Parsonage 
Author: Ethel Hueston 
 
Release Date: May 18, 2006 [eBook #18413] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRUDENCE 
OF THE PARSONAGE*** 
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PRUDENCE OF THE PARSONAGE 
by 
ETHEL HUESTON 
With Illustrations by Arthur William Brown 
 
[Frontispiece: "What did you put in this soup, Prudence?"] 
 
New York Grosset & Dunlap Publishers Copyright 1915 The 
Bobbs-Merrill Company 
 
TO MY MOTHER 
WHO DEVOTED HER LIFE TO REARING 
A WHOLE PARSONAGE-FULL OF ROLLICKING 
YOUNG METHODISTS 
 
CONTENTS 
CHAPTER 
I 
INTRODUCING HER II THE REST OF THE FAMILY III THE 
LADIES' AID IV A SECRET SOCIETY V THE TWINS STICK UP 
FOR THE BIBLE VI AN ADMIRER VII LESSONS IN ETIQUETTE
VIII THE FIRST DARK SHADOW OF WINTER IX PRACTISING 
ECONOMY X A BURGLAR'S VISIT XI ROMANCE COMES XII 
ROUSED FROM HER SLUMBER XIII SHE ORDERS HER LIFE 
XIV SHE COMES TO GRIEF XV FATE TAKES CHARGE 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
"What did you put in this soup, Prudence?" . . . . Frontispiece 
"If you'll shut the door one minute, we'll have everything exactly as you 
left it." 
"Yes, and have refreshments for just you two?" 
"She predicted I'm to fall in love with you." 
 
PRUDENCE OF THE PARSONAGE 
CHAPTER I 
INTRODUCING HER 
None but the residents consider Mount Mark, Iowa, much of a town, 
and those who are honest among them admit, although reluctantly, that 
Mount Mark can boast of far more patriotism than good judgment! But 
the very most patriotic of them all has no word of praise for the ugly 
little red C., B. & Q. railway station. If pretty is as pretty does, as we 
have been told so unpleasantly often, then the station is handsome 
enough, but as an ornament to the commonwealth it is a dismal 
failure,--low, smoky and dust-grimed. In winter its bleakness and 
bareness add to the chill of the rigorous Iowa temperature, and in 
summer the sap oozing through the boards is disagreeably suggestive of 
perspiration. The waiting-room itself is "cleaned" every day, and yet 
the same dust lies in the corners where it has lain for lo, these many 
years. And as for the cobwebs, their chief distinction lies in their ripe
old age. If there were only seven spiders in the ark, after the subsiding 
of the waters, at least a majority of them must have found their way to 
Mount Mark station in South-eastern Iowa. 
Mount Mark is anything but proud of the little station. It openly scoffs 
at it, and sniffs contemptuously at the ticket agent who bears the entire 
C., B. & Q. reputation upon his humble shoulders. At the same time, it 
certainly does owe the railroad and the state a debt of gratitude for its 
presence there. It is the favorite social rendezvous for the community! 
Only four passenger trains daily pass through Mount Mark,--not 
including the expresses, which rush haughtily by with no more than a 
scornful whistle for the sleepy town, and in return for this indignity, 
Mount Mark cherishes a most unchristian antipathy toward those 
demon fliers. 
But the "passengers"--ah, that is a different matter. The arrival of a 
passenger train in Mount Mark is an event--something in the nature of a 
C., B. & Q. "At Home," and is always attended by a large and 
enthusiastic gathering of "our best people." All that is lacking are the 
proverbial "light refreshments!" 
So it happened that one sultry morning, late in the month of August, 
there was the usual flutter of excitement and confusion on the platform 
and in the waiting-room of the station. The habitués were there in force. 
Conspicuous among them were four gaily dressed young men, smoking 
cigarettes and gazing with lack-luster eyes upon the animated scene, 
which evidently bored them. All the same, they invariably appeared at 
the depot to witness this event, stirring to others no doubt, but 
incapable of arousing the interest of these life-weary youths. They 
comprised the Slaughter-house Quartette, and were the most familiar 
and notorious characters in all the town. 
The Daily News reporter, in a well-creased, light gray suit and tan shoes, 
and with eye-glasses scientifically balanced on his aquiline nose, was 
making pointed inquiries into the private plans of the    
    
		
	
	
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