The next day Dixie sent word to Mr. Clayburn, and the following Sunday noon, true to his promise, the banker reappeared.
Carol wore her best clothes and had nothing to carry. When it came to the moment of saying good-by, Dixie, to outward appearances her own cheerful self, kissed her little sister tenderly, and Ken said, “So long,” not knowing whether he was glad or sorry. Then Carol stooped to kiss little Jimmy-Boy, who suddenly threw his arms about her neck and held her close. “Jimmy loves Carol,” he prattled, as he put his dewy mouth up to be kissed.
For one brief moment the little girl hesitated, then, unfastening the clinging baby arms, she ran and climbed into the waiting buggy and sat beside Mr. Clayburn. Then she smiled and waved. Little Jimmy, not in the least understanding what was happening, began to sob and reached out his chubby arms.
Dixie caught him up and held him as she waved his small hand at the disappearing wagon. Then, with a sigh, the little mother turned back into the log cabin, feeling very much as though there had been a death in the family.
To the very last she had hoped that Carol loved them all too much really to leave them; but Ken was calling to her, and so, holding fast to Baby Jim’s hand, she went out to the barnyard to see what he wanted.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
PLANNING A WAY OUT
The evening of the day when Carol had ridden away from her log-cabin home to live in the handsome colonial residence of the banker of Genoa, Ken and Dixie sat up later than usual. Ken had a slate on the table in front of him.
“The taxes are twelve dollars a year,” he was saying, “so, just as soon as the money comes each month, we must put one dollar in a safe place.”
Dixie nodded and then glanced at the tall grandfather clock. It was nine. She wondered if Carol had remembered to say her prayers before she went to bed, and would she miss Dixie’s good-night kiss. Perhaps not that very first night. She’d be so excited and interested, everything being so new and strange. Never before had the older girl spent even one night away from any of her little brood. She supposed that she might get used to it in time, sleeping alone in the loft.
“Dix, you’re not paying the least mite of attention to what I am saying.” Ken’s voice was patient, but he was a little vexed, for he knew that he, who had always been a faithful brother and friend, was being neglected while Dixie was yearning for their vain, selfish sister, Carol.