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."

CHAPTER III

PRUDY'S KNITTING-WORK

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, an