“Oh yes,” said Louise, not noticing her sister’s face. “We hadn’t any side windows at all there; the houses were close up, and there were very unpleasant people all around. It wasn’t at all a good neighborhood. Carey hated it. He wouldn’t come home for days and days. He said it wasn’t fit for pigs.”
“Where did he go? Where has he gone now, do you suppose?”
“Oh, off with the boys somewhere. Sometimes to their houses. Sometimes they take trips around. One of them has a car. His father’s rich. But I don’t like him. His name’s Brand Barlock. He drives wherever he likes. They went to Washington once, and were gone a week. Mother never slept a wink those nights, just sat at the front window and watched after we went to bed. I know, for I woke up and found her so several times. He might ’av gone to Baltimore now. There’s a game down that way sometime soon. I guess it was last night. Harry heard ’em talking about it. They go with the gang of fellows that used to play on our high school team when Carey was in school.”
“School?” Cornelia caught at the word hopefully. “Perhaps it’s only fun, then, Louie. Maybe, it’s nothing really bad.”
“No. They’re pretty tough,” sighed the wise child. “Harry knows. He hears the boys talk.”
“Well, dear, we’ll have to forget it now, anyway, and get to work. We must fix Carey’s room so he can sleep there tonight if he does come back, and we must have supper ready when father gets home.”
The child brightened. “Won’t they be surprised?” she said with a happy light in her eyes. “What do you want me to do? Shall I peel the potatoes?”
“Yes, do, and have plenty. We’ll mash them, shall we? I found the potato-masher in the bottom of a barrel in the parlor; so I don’t believe you’ve been using it lately.”
“That’s right. We had all we could do to bake them or boil them whole,” said Louise. “You bake the bread, and I’ll get the potatoes on. Then we’ll have plenty of time to put those things away upstairs and make Carey’s bed.”
“Are there any clean sheets? I didn’t know where to look.”