Once out of the house Charlotte couldn't resist the temptation to take a peep at the contents of the envelope. As she caught a glimpse of a crisp five dollar bill her first impulse was to go immediately and make Ruth take it back. She half turned, and waited irresolutely until the cold sting of the rain forced her to realize that the middle of the street was no place for deciding a weighty question. Then she went slowly toward home, uncomfortable because she had taken the money, happy because of the affection and sympathy Ruth had shown her.
At home a more cheerful atmosphere reigned, and Charlotte felt her spirits rise as she walked into the up-stairs sitting-room where the children were. "You're an angel of peace, Cousin Josie," said Charlotte gratefully. "I'll try to keep them happy until bedtime, though I'm no such genius at it as you are."
Charlotte felt so cheered and comforted that she thought of poor Melina, whose sorrows she had not yet investigated, and turned toward the kitchen. Melina was one of those rare maids-of-all-work whose services cannot be estimated, nor can they be paid for in mere money. Coming into the family when Charlotte was a small child, she had taken each successive baby into her heart, and had worked for them all as faithfully and lovingly as if they belonged to her.
As she walked into the room she was startled to find Melina rocking hard with her apron thrown over her face and audible sniffs going on behind it. The chair was making such a noise that at first she didn't hear Charlotte, and the latter had time to wonder whether it wouldn't be better to steal away softly and come in later. She knew she should hate to be found crying and she supposed Melina would. Before she could decide Melina threw down the apron and jumped up.
"Land, how you scared me," she said huskily. "I guess I was just having a kind of a little nap."
"Oh, was that it?" answered Charlotte. She felt the delicacy of the situation, and hated to pry into things that others didn't want her to know.
"Any cookies, Melina?" she continued carelessly. "I thought I'd take some up to the children. My, but these are good! Who was it in your family used to like them so much? Oh, I know, it was your nephew down in Maine. How is he now, Melina? Does he get any better?"
Melina's answer was so indistinct that Charlotte looked at her in amazement to see two great tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. "Oh, Melina, is he worse, and is that what makes you feel so bad?" she cried sympathetically.
"No, he ain't worse. If anything he's a little mite better."
"What is the matter then? Don't you want to tell me? Perhaps father or some of us could help."