CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
A HARD GAME
Dixie climbed the ladder to the loft and looked quickly toward the bed, but the little sister whom she sought was not there. Going to the curtained-off corner, she quickly drew aside the cretonne, and there, sitting on the floor, holding fast to the old doll for comfort and companionship, was Carol.
There were no tears in the beautiful violet-blue eyes that were lifted, but there was an expression in them so hurt that Dixie knew that it would be very hard for her little sister to forgive their unwelcome guest. Too, when she recalled the spoiled girl’s rudeness of a moment before, Dixie suddenly resolved that she would not ask Carol to put herself in a position to be again humiliated as she had been in her recent experience in the Clayburn home.
“Dearie,” she said, as she stooped and took the warm hand of the younger girl, “please come out of that dark, smothery place. I’ve thought of a plan, and I want to talk about it to you. First of all, I want you to be happy ’cause this is your home, not Sylvia’s.”
Carol smiled up gratefully and came out willingly. “Oh, Dix,” she said, “what shall we do? I don’t want to go down-stairs and have to see that mean-horrid girl. Won’t you please send her away?”
Poor Dixie looked her despair, for, after all, she was very young herself, and this problem seemed too difficult a one for her to solve. They owed so much to kind Mr. Clayburn, they just couldn’t turn his little girl out of their home, but what could they do with her in it?
“I ’most don’t know what to do,” she confessed, turning toward Carol a face that quivered sensitively. “I was wondering if, maybe, you’d like to go over to the Valley Ranch and visit. You know Sue’s mother has often asked you to come. I didn’t know but maybe you’d rather do that than stay here with Sylvia.”
Carol pouted. “No, I don’t want to leave my own home. If anybody’s sent over to the Valley Ranch, I should think it ought to be Sylvia.” The tone in which this was said was so reproachful that the perplexed girl could be brave no longer, and, throwing herself unexpectedly upon the bed, she sobbed as Carol had never heard her cry before. Feeling that she was in some way to blame, she ran to her side, exclaiming contritely: “Oh, Dixie, Dixie! Please don’t cry that way. I’ll do anything you say. I won’t care if Sylvia slaps me even—if only you won’t cry.”
With a glow of happiness in her heart, the little mother of them all sat up, and, catching the younger girl in her arms, she held her close. It was such a comfort to her to know that Carol loved her and was willing to do something that would be, oh, so hard, to prove her love.
To show that she had really meant the hastily-made promise, the younger girl said, “Tell me what you want me to do, Dix, and I’ll go right this minute and do it.”