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Updated: May 10, 2025
"But, John!" laying her hand in expostulation upon his arm. "But, Prudence!" he laughed. "Is Deborah to go with us? Shall we need her in our Italian palace, or are we to dwell amid ruins?" "Nothing else would make her old heart so glad." "Marjorie and Mrs. Kemlo expect to go home to-morrow." "Yes." "Don't you want Marjorie to stay and help you?" "With such a valiant husband at the front!
"Yes, it's a secret," said Miss Prudence, stepping behind Marjorie to fasten her veil. "Does Marjorie know?" asked Prue anxiously. "I never can guess," said Marjorie. "Now, Kitten, good-bye; and sing to Mrs. Kemlo while I am gone, and be good to Aunt Prue." "Marjorie, dear, I shall miss you," said Miss Prudence. "But you will be so glad that I am taking supper at home in that dear old kitchen.
The evening before Marjorie started for New York she was sitting alone in her father's arm chair before the sitting-room fire. Her mother had left her to go up to Mrs. Kemlo's chamber for her usual evening chat. Mrs. Kemlo was not strong this winter, and on very cold days did not venture down-stairs to the sitting-room.
Prue kissed her and stood at her side waiting for her to speak. "That is the Lord," Prue said, at last, breaking the silence after Marjorie had left them; "our dear Lord." Mrs. Kemlo kept her eyes upon it, but made no response. "What makes him look so sorry, Morris' mother?" "Because he is grieving for our sins." "I thought the thorns hurt his head." "Not so much as our sins pierced his heart."
When Marjorie saw the face the sorrowful, delicate face, and listened to the refined accent and pretty choice of words, she knew that Morris Kemlo was a gentleman because his mother was a lady. Prue wandered around the kitchen, looking at things and asking questions. Deborah was never cross to Prue.
The door was closed as suddenly and the boy and girl stood silent, looking at each other. "Your Morris Kemlo is a fine young man," observed Mrs. Rheid as she pushed the bolt into its place. "He is a heartease to his mother," replied Mrs. West, who was sometimes poetical. "Does Marjorie like him pretty well?" "Why, yes, we all do. He is like our own flesh and blood. But why did you ask?"
"That girl lives in a happy world," Mrs. Kemlo had said to Miss Prudence that morning. "She always will," Miss Prudence replied; "she has the gift of living in the sunshine." Miss Prudence looked at the long mirror after Marjorie had gone down the street, and wished that it might always keep that last reflection of Marjorie. The very spirit of pure and lovely girlhood!
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