done credit to the parsonage girls themselves. First came the minister,
whom they knew very well by this time, and considered quite respectable.
He was lively, as was to be expected of a Methodist minister, and told
jokes, and laughed at them! Now, a comical rector,--oh, a very different
matter,--it wasn't done, that's all! At any rate, here came the
Methodist minister, laughing, and on one side of him tripped a small
earnest-looking maiden, clasping his hand, and gazing alternately up into
his face, and down at the stylish cement sidewalk beneath her feet. On
the other side, was Fairy. The Misses Avery knew the girls by name
already,--having talked much with Prudence.

"Such a Fairy!" gasped Miss Millicent, and the others echoed the gasp,
but wordlessly.

For Fairy for very nearly as tall as her father, built upon generous
lines, rather commanding in appearance, a little splendid-looking. Even
from their windows they could discern something distinctly Juno-like in
this sixteen-year-old girl, with the easy elastic stride that matched her
father's, and the graceful head, well carried. A young goddess,--named
Fairy!

Behind them, laughing and chattering, like three children, as they
were,--came the twins with Prudence, each with an arm around her waist.
And Prudence was very little taller than they. When they reached the
fence that bordered the parsonage, the scene for a moment resembled a
miniature riot. The smaller girls jumped and exclaimed, and clasped
their hands. Fairy leaned over the fence, and stared intently at this,
their parsonage home. Then the serious little girl scrambled under the
fence, followed closely by the lithe-limbed twins. A pause, a very short
one,--and then Prudence, too, was wriggling beneath the fence.