From the Improvement Era, July 1943 –

Prudence

By Deone Robinson

Prudence lay prone on the bridge catching “water-skaters.” For the most part, they eluded her dirty, grubby, little hands, but sometimes she caught one of the many long-legged little bugs. She would clutch it tightly in her hands and feel it wiggling around inside her clenched fingers. Then she would put her hand close to the stream and open it, letting the bug go scooting swiftly away on top of the water.

Her brown, scratched legs waved like flags, and her blue eyes were fastened on her bugs, when the hired man came up from behind her. He grasped her firmly.

“Your mama wants you to come and get ready for Miss Ellen’s birthday party, and I told her I’d fetch you. I won’t let go of you unless you promise to go straight in and not run off!”

Prudence’s eyes darkened menacingly, “Ole silly party!” Then she sighed, “Yes, I’ll go straight in.”

The hired man let go of her, and walked away toward the orchard. The little girl stood up. Dust and dirt and leaves clung to the front of her faded, blue shirt and shorts. She sadly brushed herself and turned in the general direction of the house. She kicked rocks up the path with her old, scratched shoes. She stamped across the porch. The screen door banged.

“Is that you, Prudence?”

“Yes, mama.”

“Well, come in here, darling. Your bath is ready. You’ll be late if you don’t hurry!”

“Yes, mama.” She went across the room muttering darkly to herself, “Ole ugly, silly party.”

“Did you say something, dear?” asked her mother.

“No — that is, yes’m. I don’t really want to go to the old party, mama. I want to stay home and play.”

The mother looked dismayed, “But darling, you never want to go to parties! I’ve gone over all this with you before. You have to learn to live with people and be friendly. You have to do — well, do as others do. Why, you’re thirteen years old, and you should be enjoying them.”

Prudence looked up into her mother’s pleading eyes, “Yes, mama.”

The only time she looked in the mirror during the whole process of dressing was to part her black, straight hair. Her mother always sighed over her hair, but curlers hurt, declared Prudence.

She put on her pretty blue party dress. She stood before her mother. “I feel silly,” she said.

The mother smiled weakly,” Why ”

Then she said hastily, “You’re very nice-looking, Prudence. Now, here’s the present.”

Prudence held it gingerly in one hand.

“Now, Prudence, it’s not far to Ellen’s, but you dawdle so!

“No, mama, I’ll walk fast. I’ll leave right now and get there in plenty of time.”

“All right, dear. And Prudence, please remember to be polite and act nice.”

Prudence knew her mother was remembering the last time she went to a party. She had got all the boys to go out on the lawn and play mumble peg instead of dancing, until the horrified little hostess had burst into tears.

“I’ll be okay,” said Prudence.

“Not ‘okay,’ darling,” called her mother despairingly.

Prudence kicked a rock along the sidewalk for nearly a whole block before she remembered she had her best shoes on and wasn’t supposed to do any kicking with them. That was the trouble, she thought gloomily. There were so many things to remember not to do. She tried kicking the rock with her heel, but she nearly lost her balance, and so she left it lying on the sidewalk. It would be fatal to fall down in her party dress.

She turned the corner, and there was Ellen’s house just in front of her. She stopped and sat down on her heels staring at the house. Probably she was early. She hadn’t better go in yet. She didn’t want to be the only one there. She looked down the shady street. Green lawns with sprinklers sparkled gaily in the sun. How she hated to go in and sit around stiff and awkward, or, worse than ever, dance to a phonograph. Why, a person couldn’t even eat as much as he wanted to at a party, because he had to be polite and say, “No, thank you!” It would be ten times more fun at home playing with her puppy.

Her legs began to feel cramped, so she stood up. Someone came out of the house opposite Ellen’s. She squared her shoulders. She opened the front gate and went up the walk. She rang the loud clapper on the front door firmly.

Ellen opened the door. “Hello, Prudence, come in.”

“Lo,” said Prudence. She handed Ellen the present.

“Oh, thank you, Prudence.”

Ellen ushered her into the livingroom. The room was filled with boys and girls. Prudence gulped; gee, she was late again.

Ellen was speaking, “And this is my cousin, William. His family are staying here until they find them a house.”

Prudence saw a pair of brown eyes and some brown, curly hair. Her brow smoothed out; she said, ” Ho!”

William smiled at her and found her a chair. Prudence sat down.

Mary Lou Palmer sitting by Prudence nudged her, “William’s almost sixteen, and he can drive a car. Ellen told me all about him. Did you see the way he looked at you?”

“Don’t be silly,” said Prudence.

The rugs were rolled up — so it was to be dancing. Prudence groaned inwardly. “Why do they want to dance?” she asked herself.

Then William was standing in front of her, “Would you care to be my partner for the first one?” he said.

“Yes,” breathed Prudence. She felt the other girls’ eyes on her, and she lifted her head a little and ventured a smile at William. William tightened his grip on her hand.

Then terror clutched her. What would she say to him? Would she have to say anything? Goodness, she couldn’t say anything!

Her heart pounded. Then she found she didn’t have to say anything. She just looked at him out of big, blue eyes fringed with black lashes, and that was enough for William.

Dancing wasn’t so bad, she thought. In fact she rather liked it, oh, just a little, of course!

When refreshments were served, William sat down by her. And, strangely enough, for the first time in her life she could say, “No, thank you,” with no regrets, to a second offer of ice cream.

The party was over. Prudence said her “thank you’s” easily. There was no constraint on her part.

The boys and girls walked out on the porch.

Then William was at her side. “I’d like to walk you home,” he was saying.

Prudence smiled at him, and they walked side by side down the sidewalk. A rock lay just in front of Prudence, but she didn’t even see it.

They reached the Sanderson front gate. Both Prudence and William paused. William leaned on the gate. “I could tell that you were a lot smoother than any of them as soon as I saw you.”

Prudence swallowed hard. Then a little black and white dog came tearing around the house. His tail beat frantically as he caught sight of Prudence on the other side of the gate.

Prudence felt a little wave of nostalgia sweep over her.

“Well” said William, “maybe I can call you later?”

Prudence felt as though a bomb had exploded in her ears. She looked at the little puppy for reassurance. Then she turned back to William, “Well maybe,” she said.

As soon as William was gone she raced in the house. “And I didn’t mind the party at all,” she told her mother; “of course William got a little silly at the last, but it was all okay — I mean all right.”

She pulled on her faded blue shirt and shorts and tore out of the house.

Prudence was perched on a high limb of her favorite tree thinking, when her mother called her in to the evening meal. “I guess parties are kind of fun,” she admitted to herself as she climbed down out of the tree.

Just before bedtime, Prudence went into her mother’s bedroom and borrowed her curlers, and painstakingly wound up all of her straight, black hair.