"Your suit-case," he explained patiently.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Run, father, run! I left it on the train!"

Father did run, but Prudence, fleeter-footed, out-distanced him and
clambered on board, panting.

When she rejoined her father her face was flushed. "Oh, father," she
said quite snappily, "isn't that just like me?"

"Yes, very like," he agreed, and he smiled. "Where is your umbrella?"

Prudence stopped abruptly. "I don't know," she said, with a stony
face. "I can't remember a blessed thing about the old umbrella. Oh, I
guess I didn't bring it, at all." She breathed long in her relief.
"Yes, that's it, father, I left it at Aunt Grace's. Don't you worry
about it. Fairy'll bring it to-morrow. Isn't it nice that we can
count on Fairy's remembering?"

"Yes, very nice," he said, but his eyes were tender as he looked down
at the little figure beside him.

"And so this is Mount Mark! Isn't it a funny name, father? Why do
they call it Mount Mark?"

"I don't know. I hadn't thought to inquire. We turn here, Prudence;
we are going north now. This is Main Street. The city part of the
town--the business part--is to the south."