Carolyn of the Corners Part 4

"Well!" muttered the hardware dealer, and Carolyn May wondered if he were not afraid to express just the emotion he felt at that instant. His face was red, and he got up clumsily to secure the sealed message.

"Who brought it, and when?" he asked finally, having read the lawyer's night letter.

"A boy. This morning," said Aunty Rose, utterly calm.

"And I never saw it this noon," grumbled the hardware dealer.

Mrs. Kennedy quite ignored any suggestion of impatience in Mr. Stagg's voice or manner. But he seemed to lose taste for his supper after reading the telegram.

"Where is the letter that this Mr. Price wrote and sent by you, Car'lyn?" he asked as he was about to depart for the store.

The little girl asked permission to leave the table, and then ran to open her bag. Mr. Stagg said doubtfully:

"I s'pose you'll have to put her somewhere-for the present. Don't see what else we can do, Aunty Rose."

"You may be sure, Joseph Stagg, that her room was ready for her a week ago," Mrs. Kennedy rejoined, quite unruffled.

The surprised hardware dealer gurgled something in his throat. "What room?" he finally stammered.

"That which was her mother's. Hannah Stagg's room. It is next to mine, and she will come to no harm there."

"Hannah's!" exclaimed Mr. Stagg. "Why, that ain't been slept in since she went away."

"It is quite fit, then," said Aunty Rose, "that it should be used for her child. Trouble nothing about things that do not concern you, Joseph Stagg," she added with, perhaps, additional sternness.

Carolyn May did not hear this. She now produced the letter from her lawyer neighbour.

"There it is, Uncle Joe," she said. "I-I guess he tells you all about me in it."

"Hum!" said the hardware man, clearing his throat and picking up his hat. "I'll read it down at the store."

"Shall-shall I see you again to-night, Uncle Joe?" the little girl asked wistfully. "You know, my bedtime's half-past eight."

"Well, if you don't see me to-night again, you'll be well cared for, I haven't a doubt," said Uncle Joe shortly, and went out.

Carolyn May went soberly back to her chair. She did not eat much more.

Somehow there seemed to be a big lump in her throat past which she could not force the food. As the dusk fell, the spirit of loneliness gripped her, and the tears pooled behind her eyelids, ready to pour over her cheeks at the least "joggle." Yet she was not usually a "cry-baby" girl.

Aunty Rose was watching her more closely than Carolyn May supposed.

After her third cup of tea she arose and began quietly clearing the table. The newcomer was nodding in her place, her blue eyes clouded with sleep and unhappiness.

"It is time for you to go to bed, Car'lyn May," said Aunty Rose firmly.

"I will show you the room Hannah Stagg had for her own when she was a girl."

"Thank you, Aunty Rose," said the little girl humbly.

She picked up the bag and followed the stately old woman into the back hall and up the stairway into the ell. Carolyn May saw that at the foot of the stairs was a door leading out upon the porch where Prince was now moving about uneasily at the end of his leash. She would have liked to say "good-night" to Prince, but it seemed better not to mention this feeling to Aunty Rose.

The fading hues of sunset in the sky gave the little girl plenty of light to undress by. She thought the room very beautiful, too. It was large, and the ceiling sloped at one side; the bed was wide and plump looking. It had four funny, spindle-shaped posts, and it was covered with a bright patchwork quilt of many tiny squares-quite an intricate pattern, Carolyn May thought.

"Do you need any help, child?" asked Mrs. Kennedy, standing in her soldierly manner in the doorway. It was dusky there, and the little girl could not see her face.

"Oh, no, ma'am," said Carolyn May faintly. "I can b.u.t.ton and unb.u.t.ton every b.u.t.ton. I learned long ago. And my nightie's right in my bag here."

"Very well," said Aunty Rose, and turned away. Carolyn May stood in the middle of the room and listened to her descending footsteps. _Aunty Rose had not even bidden her good-night!_

Like a marooned sailor upon a desert island, the little girl went about exploring the bedroom which was to be hers-and which had once been her mother's. That fact helped greatly. Her mother had slept in this very bed-had looked into that cunning, clouded gla.s.s over the dressing table-had sat in this very little rocking chair to take off her shoes and stockings-had hung her dress, perhaps, over this other chair.

Carolyn May kept repeating these things as she divested herself of her garments and got into the nightgown that Mrs. Price had freshly ironed for her. Then she looked at the high, "puffy" bed.

"How ever _can_ I get into it?" sighed Carolyn May.

She had to stand upon her tiptoes in her fluffy little bedroom slippers to pull back the quilt, and the blanket and sheet underneath it. The bed was just a great big bag of feathers!

"Just like a big, big pillow," thought the little girl. "And if I do get into it, I'm li'ble to sink down, and down, and _down_, till I'm buried, and won't ever be able to get up in the morning."

Carolyn May had never seen anything softer to sleep on than a mattress of pressed felt. A feather bed might be all right, but she felt more than a little shy of venturing into it.

The window was open, and she went to it and looked out. A breath of honeysuckle blew in. Then, below, on the porch, she heard the uneasy movements of Prince. And he whined.

"Oh, poor Princey! He doesn't know what's become of me," thought Carolyn May.

Downstairs, in the great kitchen, Aunty Rose was stepping back and forth, from table to sink, from sink to dresser, from dresser to pantry.

As the daylight faded, she lit the lamp which swung from the ceiling and gave light to all the room.

It would have been impossible for the wisest person to guess what were the thoughts in Aunty Rose's mind. She might have been thinking of that sunny-haired, blue-eyed little girl upstairs, so lately bereft of those whom she loved, a stranger to-night in a new home, going to bed for the first time in her life alone; aye, she _might_ have been thinking of her. Or she might merely have been deciding in her mind whether to have batter cakes or waffles for breakfast.

A glad little yelp from the dog tied to the rail of the porch sounded suddenly. Even Aunty Rose could not mistake that cry of welcome, and she knew very little about dogs-to their credit, at least. She had heard no other suspicious sound, but now she crossed the room with firm tread and opened the porch door. Yes, a little white figure was down there, hugging the whining mongrel; and if the latter could have spoken English he could have made it no whit plainer how glad he was to see his little mistress.

Carolyn May's tearful face was raised from Prince's rough neck.

"Oh, Aunty Rose! Oh, Aunty Rose!" she sobbed. "I just _had_ to say good-night to somebody. Edna's mother came and heard our prayers and tucked us into my bed after my papa and mamma went away. So it didn't seem so bad.

"But to-night-Why! to-night there isn't anybody cares whether I go to bed or not! But Prince! Prince, _he_ knows just how-how _empty_ I feel!"

The woman stood in the doorway with the light behind her, so Carolyn May could not see her face; her voice was perfectly calm when she said:

"You would better come in now and wash your face and hands again before going to bed. That dog has been lapping them with his tongue."

Sobbing, the little girl obeyed. The dog curled down on the porch as though satisfied, having seen that his little mistress was all right.

The latter trotted over the cold linoleum to the sink and did as Mrs.

Kennedy directed. Then she would have gone back up the stairs without a word had not Aunty Rose spoken.

"Come here, Carolyn May," she said quite as sternly as before.

The little girl approached her. The old lady sat in one of the straightest of the straight-backed chairs, her hands in her comfortable lap. The wet blue eyes were raised to her composed face timidly.

"If you wish to say your prayers here, before going upstairs, you may, Carolyn May," she said.