Dixie had not planned what she should say. She left it to the inspiration of the moment. What she said was: “Mr. Clayburn has been over while you-all have been away, and he said his wife would like to have Carol go to Genoa and live with them and be a sister to their Sylvia.”
If Dixie had hoped that Carol would say that she would far rather live in the log cabin with them, she was doomed to disappointment, for Carol’s pretty face glowed joyfully, and, clapping her hands, she cried: “Oh, Dix, how wonderful that will be! Just think of the pretty clothes I’ll have. That old ruffly dress of Jessica Archer’s will look like poor folks by the side of the dresses I will wear. Why, Sylvia Clayburn had on a pink-silk dress at the fair. I’d be the happiest girl on earth, Dix, if I could have a silk dress and have Jessica Archer see me wearing it.”
Ken had not spoken, but he was watching both of his sisters very closely, and the slow anger of Pine Tree Martin was mounting in his heart.
Suddenly he blurted, “Let her go, Dix, and be glad to get rid of her, if that’s all the thanks she’s got to give, after the scrimping and going-without you’ve done to buy her things.”
“Don’t, Ken, dear,” Dixie cried. “Carol’s not as old as we are, and—she’s different.”
“I should hope I am different,” the younger girl replied, tossing her curls. “I am a Haddington-Allen through and through, my mother often told me so, and you two are—are—”
“Don’t you dare say it!” Ken warned, and Carol, after a quick glance at her brother, thought best not to complete her sentence.
The boy had whirled the chair away and was standing. Looking steadily at the now shrinking younger girl, he declared, “Dix and I are proud, proud, proud, that we are children of our father.” Then there was a break in his voice that made even Carol ashamed of herself.
“Oh, I don’t see why we need be mad about it,” she said in a wheedling voice, “and I should think you two would be glad to have me living where I could have nice things and won’t have to dust and—”
Again Ken blurted out with, “Yes, you’re quite willing Dix should go on doing all the work and bearing all the burden. We’ll be well rid of you, I say, and the sooner the better.” At that the boy turned and left the house, closing the door with a bang.