Little Prudy

I am going to tell you something about a little girl who was always saying and doing funny things, and very often getting into trouble.

Her name was Prudy Parlin, and she and her sister Susy, three years older, lived in Portland, in the State of Maine, though every summer they went to Willowbrook, to visit their grandmother.

At the very first of our story, Susy was more than six years old, and Prudy was between three and four. Susy could sew quite well for a girl of her age, and had a stint every day. Prudy always thought it very fine to do just as Susy did, so she teased her mother to let her have some patchwork, too, and Mrs. Parlin gave her a few calico pieces, just to keep her little fingers out of mischief.

But when the squares were basted together, she broke needles, pricked her fingers, and made a great fuss; sometimes crying, and wishing there were no such thing as patchwork.

One morning she sat in her rocking-chair, doing what she thought was a "stint." She kept running to her mother with every stitch, saying, "Will that do?" Her mother was very busy, and said, "My little daughter must not come to me." So Prudy sat down near the door, and began to sew with all her might; but soon her little baby sister came along, looking so cunning, that Prudy dropped her needle, and went to hugging her.

"O, little sister," cried she, "I wouldn't have a horse come and eat you up for any thing in the world!"

After this, of course, her mother had to get her another needle, and then thread it for her. She went to sewing again till she pricked her finger, and the sight of the wee drop of blood made her cry.

"O, dear! I wish somebody would pity me!" But her mother was so busy frying doughnuts that she could not stop to talk much; and the next thing she saw of Prudy she was at the farther end of the room, while her patchwork lay on the spice box.

"Prudy, Prudy, what are you up to now?"

"Up to the table," said Prudy. "O, mother, I'm so sorry, but I've broke a crack in the pitcher!"

"What will mamma do with you? You haven't finished your stint-what made you get out of your chair?"

"O, I thought grandma might want me to get her speckles. I thought I would go and find Zip too. See, mamma, he's so tickled to see me he shakes all over-every bit of him!"

"Where's your patchwork?"

"I don't know. You've got a double name, haven't you, doggie? It's Zip Coon, but it isn't a very double name,-is it, mother?"

When Mrs. Parlin had finished her doughnuts, she said, "Pussy, you can't keep still two minutes. Now, if you want to sew this patchwork for grandma's quilt, I'll tell you what I shall do. There's an empty hogshead in the back kitchen, and I'll lift you into that, and you can't climb out. I'll lift you out when your stint is done."

"O, what a funny little house," said Prudy, when she was inside; and as she spoke, her voice startled her-it was so loud and hollow. "I'll talk some more," thought she, "it makes such a queer noise.-'Old Mrs. Hogshead, I thought I'd come and see you, and bring my work. I like your house, ma'am, only I should think you'd want some windows. I s'pose you know who I am, Mrs. Hogshead? My name is Prudy. My mother didn't put me in here because I was a naughty girl, for I haven't done nothing-nor nothing-nor nothing. Do you want to hear some singing?

'O, come, come away,

From labor now reposin';

Let busy Caro, wife of Barrow,

Come, come away!'"

"Prudy, what's the matter?" said mamma, from the next room.

"Didn't you hear somebody singing?" said Prudy; "well, 'twas me."

"O, I was afraid you were crying, my dear."

"Then I'll stop," said the child. "Now, Mrs. Hogshead, you won't hear me singing any more,-it mortifies my mother very much."

So Prudy made her fingers fly, and soon said, "Now, mamma, I've got it done, and I'm ready to be took out!"

Just then her father came into the house. "Prudy's in the hogshead," said Mrs. Parlin. "Won't you please lift her out, father? I've got baby in my arms."

Mr. Parlin peeped into the hogshead. "How in this world did you ever get in here, child?" said he. "I think I'll have to take you out with a pair of tongs."

Prudy laughed.

"Give me your hands," said papa. "Up she comes! Now, come sit on my knee," added he, when they had gone into the parlor, "and tell me how you climbed into that hogshead."

"Mother dropped me in, and I'm going to stay there till I make a bedquilt, only I'm coming out to eat, you know."

Mr. Parlin laughed; but just then the dinner bell rang, and when they went to the table, Prudy was soon so busy with her roasted chicken and custard pie that she forgot all about the patchwork.

* * *

Prudy soon tired of sewing, and her mother said, laughing, "If grandma Read has to wait for somebody's little fingers before she gets a bedquilt, poor grandma will sleep very cold indeed."

The calico pieces went into the rag-bag, and that was the last of Prudy's patchwork.

One day the children wanted to go and play in the "new house," which was not quite done. Mrs. Parlin was almost afraid little Prudy might get hurt, for there were a great many loose boards and tools lying about, and the carpenters, who were at work on the house, had all gone away to see some soldiers. But at last she said they might go if Susy would be very careful of her little sister.

I dare say Susy meant to watch Prudy with great care, but after a while she got to thinking of something else. The little one wanted to play "catch," but Susy saw a great deal more sport in building block houses.

"Now I know ever so much more than you do," said Susy. "I used to wash dishes and scour knives when I was four years old, and that was the time I learned you to walk, Prudy; so you ought to play with me, and be goody."

"Then I will; but them blocks is too big, Susy. If I had a axe I'd chop 'em: I'll go get a axe." Little Prudy trotted off, and Susy never looked up from her play, and did not notice that she was gone a long while.

By and by Mrs. Parlin thought she would go and see what the children were doing; so she put on her bonnet and went over to the "new house." Susy was still busy with her blocks, but she looked up at the sound of her mother's footsteps.

"Where is Prudy?" said Mrs. Parlin, glancing around.

"I'm 'most up to heaven," cried a little voice overhead.

They looked, and what did they see? Prudy herself standing on the highest beam of the house! She had climbed three ladders to get there. Her mother had heard her say the day before that "she didn't want to shut up her eyes and die, and be all deaded up-she meant to have her hands and face clean, and go up to heaven on a ladder."

"O," thought the poor mother, "she is surely on the way to heaven, for she can never get down alive. My darling, my darling!"

Poor Susy's first thought was to call out to Prudy, but her mother gave her one warning glance, and that was enough: Susy neither spoke nor stirred.

Mrs. Parlin stood looking up at her-stood as white and still as if she had been frozen! Her trembling lips moved a little, but it was in prayer; she knew that only God could save the precious one.

While she was begging Him to tell her what to do, a sudden thought flashed across her mind. She dared not speak, lest the sound of her voice should startle the child; but she had a bunch of keys in her pocket, and she jingled the keys, holding them up as high as possible, that Prudy might see what they were.

When the little one heard the jingling, she looked down and smiled. "You goin' to let me have some cake and 'serves in the china closet, me and Susy?"

Mrs. Parlin smiled-such a smile! It was a great deal sadder than tears, though Prudy did not know that-she only knew that it meant "yes."

"O, then I'm coming right down, 'cause I like cake and 'serves. I won't go up to heaven till bime-by!"

Then she walked along the beam, and turned about to come down the ladders. Mrs. Parlin held her breath, and shut her eyes. She dared not look up, for she knew that if Prudy should take one false step, she must fall and be dashed in pieces!

But Prudy was not wise enough to fear any thing. O, no. She was only thinking very eagerly about crimson jellies and fruit cake. She crept down the ladders without a thought of danger-no more afraid than a fly that creeps down the window-pane.

The air was so still that the sound of every step was plainly heard, as her little feet went pat,-pat,-on the ladder rounds. God was taking care of her,-yes, at length the last round was reached-she had got down-she was safe!

"Thank God!" cried Mrs. Parlin, as she held little Prudy close to her heart; while Susy jumped for joy, exclaiming,-

"We've got her! we've got her! O, ain't you so happy, mamma?"

"O, mamma, what you crying for?" said little Prudy, clinging about her neck. "Ain't I your little comfort?-there, now, you know what you speaked about! You said you'd get some cake and verserves for me and Susy."

* * *

Susy felt as if she had been sadly to blame, and for a long time was very watchful of her little sister.

"Your name is Susy," said the child; "and your middle name is Sister Susy, and you take the care o' me!"

"No, I don't," thought Susy to herself. "If I had taken any care of you at all, you wouldn't have climbed those ladders."

When Prudy was four years old, she teased to go to school, and her mother decided to let her go until she grew tired of it.

"O, dear!" sighed Susy, the first day she took her; "she'll talk out loud, I just about know she will, she's such a little chatter-box."

"Poh; no I shan't," said Prudy. "I ain't a checker-box, Susy Parlin; but you are! I shan't talk in school, nor I shan't whisper, never in my world!"

When they got home that night, Mrs. Parlin asked if Prudy had whispered in school.

"No, ma'am. I never done such a thing-I guess. Did I, Susy? How much I didn't talk to you, don't you know?"

"O, she was pretty good, mother," said Susy; "but she cried once so I had to go out with her."

"Now, Susy Parlin, you told me to cry! She did, mamma. She said if I'd cry she'd give me a piece of her doughnut."

Susy blushed; and her mother looked at her, and said, "I would like to see you alone a little while, Susy."

Then Mrs. Parlin had a talk with Susy in the parlor, and told her how wrong it was to deceive, and how she must take the care of her little sister, and set her good examples.

Susy said she would do as well as she could.

"But, mamma, if you are willing, I'd rather not sit with Prudy, now, certainly. She says such queer things. Why, to-day she said she had grandma's rheumatism in her back, and wanted me to look at her tongue and see if she hadn't. Why, mother, as true as I live, she shut up her eyes and put out her tongue right there in school, and of course we girls couldn't help laughing!"

"Well, perhaps she'd better sit by herself," replied Mrs. Parlin, smiling. "I will speak to the teacher about her carrying her knitting-work-that may keep her out of mischief."

Now it happened that grandma Read had taken a great deal of pains to teach Prudy to knit;-but such a piece of work as the child made of it!

The first time she carried the thing which she supposed was going to be a stocking, the A B C scholars looked very much surprised, for none of them knew how to knit.

Prudy said, "Poh, I know how to do it just as easy!"

But in trying to show them how smart she could be, she knit so fast that she dropped a stitch every other moment.

"There, now, you are dropping stitches like every thing," said Lottie Palmer, very much pleased. "I guess I know how to do that!"

"Poh, them's nothing but the loops," said Prudy.

But it was not long before she broke the yarn short off, and got her work into such a fix that she had to take it home and ask grandma to "fix it out."

"Why, child, where's the ball?" said her grandmother. "And here's two needles gone!"

"O, I left 'em to school, I s'pose," said Prudy. "I'm sure I never noticed 'em."

"I found the ball under the teacher's desk once," said Susy.

"Well, 'tain't there now," replied Prudy; "it's all wounded now, and I put it where it b'longs."

"Where's that?" asked grandma, laughing.

"Well, I don't know," answered Prudy, trying to think; "but I guess it's somewhere."

Mrs. Parlin began to think it was a foolish plan to let Prudy take her knitting-work. I was going to mention something she did the last day she carried it. She got tired of knitting, tired of twisting her pretty curls round her finger, and tired of looking at pictures.

"Let's guess riddles," she whispered to Nancy Glover, who sat on the bench beside her. "I can make up riddles just as easy! There's something in this room, in Miss Parker's watch-pocket, goes tick-tick. Now guess that:-that's a riddle."

"I wish you'd behave, Prudy Parlin," said Nancy. "Here I am trying to get my spelling lesson."

Then Nancy turned her head a little to one side, and went to studying as hard as she could, for it was almost time for her class to be called.

All at once Prudy happened to look at Nancy's ear, and thought, "What funny little holes folks have in their ears! I s'pose they go clear through. I guess I'll put my knitting-needle right through Nannie's ear while she's a-studyin'. The needle will look so funny stickin' out at the other end!"

So Prudy was very sly about it, and said not a word, but began to push in the needle with all her might.

O, such sharp screams as Nannie gave! The teacher was frightened; but when she found that Nannie was not so very badly hurt after all, she felt easier about her, and began to talk to little Prudy, asking her "why she didn't sit still, like a lady, and mind?"

Prudy began to cry. "I was a-mindin'," said she; "of course I was. I never knew 'twas a-goin' to hurt her."

Miss Parker smiled, and said, "Well, you needn't bring that knitting-work here any more. The next thing we should have somebody's eyes put out."

When Miss Parker called out the next class in spelling, Nannie sat with her head down, feeling very cross. "I don't like you, Prudy," said she. "You 'most killed me! I'll pay you for this, now you see!"

Miss Parker had to call Nannie by name before she would go to her class. She was three or four years older than Prudy, and ought to have known better than to be angry with such a little child. She should have forgotten all about it: that would have been the best way. But instead of that, she kept thinking,-

"O, how that knitting-needle did hurt! Prudy ought to be ashamed! I'll pay her for it, now you see!"

You may be sure Prudy did not worry her little brains about it at all.

Her mother was brushing her hair next morning for school, and Mr. Parlin said,-

"Don't you think she's too little to go to school, mother? I don't care about her learning to read yet awhile."

Mrs. Parlin smiled in a droll way. "I should be very sorry myself to have Prudy learn to read," replied she; "but she won't keep still long enough: you needn't be a bit afraid."

"Look here, Prudy," exclaimed Mr. Parlin, "can you spell any words?"

"Poh! yes, sir, I guess I can," replied Prudy, her eyes looking very bright, "I can spell 'most all there is to spell."

"O, ho," laughed Mr. Parlin. "Let's hear you spell your own name. Can't do it, can you?"

"Poh! yes, I can! That ain't nothin'. Pre-ed, Prood, Pre-i-eddy, Prudy. There!"

"Bravo!" cried papa. "You're getting ahead, I declare! Now can you spell Susy's name?"

"Spell Susy? Why, I can do it just as easy!" replied Prudy, her eyes shining very bright indeed. "C-ez, Sooz, C-i-ezzy, Susy. There! Can't I spell?"

"Why, I should think you could," said papa, laughing. "I can't begin to spell the way you do. Now can you spell Cat?"

"Cat? Cat?" repeated Prudy, looking puzzled. "Well, I guess I've forgot how to spell cat. But I can spell Kitty. You just hear! Kee-et, kit, kee-i-etty, kitty! I can spell the big words the best."

"What think now?" said Mrs. Parlin. "The truth is, Prudy knew eight letters when she began to go to school, and now she knows but four."

"Glad of it," returned Mr. Parlin. "Are you ready for school, little one?" And he held out his arms, saying,-

"And now, my own dear little girl,

There is no way but this-

Put your arms about my neck,

And give me one sweet kiss."

So Prudy hugged and kissed her father "just as hard." Then she and Susy trudged along to school, and they met Nancy Glover, who was carrying something in her apron.

"Mayn't I see what you've got?" said little Prudy.

"Not till I get ready," said Nancy. "Who stuck that knitting-needle into my ear?"

"You know she didn't mean to," said Susy.

"I don't care," cried Nancy, "it hurt!"

Prudy felt very sorry. "I wish I hadn't hurt you, Nanny," said she, "'cause I want to see what you've got in your apron."

"Well, I guess you'll see it soon enough. I brought it to school to purpose for you."

"O, did you?" cried the child. "How good you are, Nanny. I love you 'most as well as I do Susy."

When little Prudy spoke so sweetly, Nancy didn't know what to say; so she said nothing. They went into the school-house and took their seats, Nancy keeping the corner of her apron rolled up all the while.

By and by, when Miss Parker was hearing the third class, Nancy whispered,-

"Look here, Prudy Parlin, you wanted to know what I had in my apron: shall I show you now?"

"O, goody!"

"Well, then," continued Nanny,-

"'Open your mouth and shut your eyes,

And I'll give you something to make you wise!'"

So Prudy opened her mouth as wide as it would go, and squeezed her eyelids together very hard.

Then what should Nancy do, but take out of her apron a wee bit of a toad, and drop it in Prudy's mouth! I can't see how she dared do such a thing; but she did it. She had found the toad in the street, and picked it up to frighten little Prudy.

The moment the toad was dropped on the child's tongue of course it began to hop. Prudy hopped too. She seized her tongue with one hand and the toad with the other, screaming at the top of her voice.

The scholars were all frightened to hear such a scream, and to see Prudy running out to the teacher so fast.

"Do tell me what ails you?" said Miss Parker.

By that time Prudy had got rid of the toad, and could speak.

"O, dear, dear, dear," cried she, "I didn't know it was a toad till it hopped right up!"

"A toad here in the house!" cried Miss Parker.

"No, ma'am," said Prudy, trembling and sobbing. "It wasn't in the house,-it was in my mouth,-right here on my tongue."

Prudy showed Miss Parker her tongue. Miss Parker laughed, thinking her a very funny child.

"I've heard, before now, of little folks having frogs in their throats," said she. "Is that what you mean?"

"I guess so," sobbed Prudy. "And it was alive-just as alive as could be! O, O!-Nancy, she told me to shut up my eyes, you know, and I didn't see the toad till it hopped right up in my mouth,-and then I didn't see it! O, O!"

"Nancy, come here," said Miss Parker, sternly. "What have you been doing to this little child?"

Nancy came out, with her fingers in her mouth, but did not speak.

"Answer me; did you drop a toad into Prudy's mouth?"

"Yes," replied Nancy, sulkily; "but she stuck a knitting-needle into my ear fust!"

"For shame, you wicked child," said Miss Parker. "Take up that toad, Nancy, and carry it out of doors; then come to me, for I must punish you."

"Now, Prudy," added Miss Parker, "what do you think I ought to do to Nancy for being so naughty?"

"I don't know," answered Prudy, crying still. "I don't s'pose my mother would be willing to have folks put toads in my mouth."

"But what do you think I ought to do to her?" said Miss Parker, smiling.

"Was you goin' to whip her?" asked Prudy, looking up through her tears.

"I think I must, my child."

"Well, I hope you won't hurt her," said dear little Prudy. "Please to don't."

But Miss Parker struck Nancy with a piece of whalebone, and hurt her a good deal. It was the only way to make Nancy remember not to do such a cruel trick again.

When Prudy saw how much Nancy was hurt, it was more than her tender heart could bear. She ran up to Miss Parker, and caught hold of the skirt of her dress, hiding her head in it.

"O, Miss Parker!" said she, "I've got to cry. Nanny won't do so no more. The toad was just as alive as could be, but it never bit a bit! O, won't you please to don't!"

* * *