Prudence stood at the foot of the stairs, deftly drawing on her black silk gloves,--gloves still good in Prudence's eyes, though Fairy had long since discarded them as unfit for service. There was open anxiety in Prudence's expression, and puckers of worry perpendicularly creased her white forehead. "Girls!" she called again. "Come down! Father, you'd better hurry,--it's nearly train time. Girls, are you deaf!"…
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