“Here we are!” called Carroll. He was smiling, although he had a slightly worried look. The other man's black eyes were fixed with a sort of tender hunger on Ina, who hung back a little as she and Charlotte approached the carriage. It was actually Charlotte who shook hands first with Major Arms, although she tried to give her sister precedence.
Ina blushed a good deal, and smiled rather tremulously when her turn came and her little hand was enveloped in the man's eager one.
“I—didn't know—I didn't—” she stammered.
“No, you didn't, did ye, honey?” said the major, in the broadest of Southern drawls. “No, ye didn't. The old fellow thought he'd surprise ye, honey.” The man's face and voice were as frankly expressive of delighted love as a boy's. “Arthur,” said he, “over with ye to the front seat and let me have my sweetheart in here with me. I want my arms around her. Not another minute can I wait. Over with ye, boy!”
Carroll threw open the carriage door and sprang out. “Jump in, Ina,” he said, and placed a hand under his daughter's arm. She gave a smiling and not altogether unhappy, but still piteous, look at him, and hung back slightly. “Jump in, dear,” he said, again; and Ina was in the carriage, and there was a sweep of a long gray-clad arm around her and the sound of kisses.
“Now, Charlotte,” said Carroll, “get in the front seat. I will walk the rest of the way.”
“No, papa,” Charlotte replied, “I will walk with you. I would rather.” So the carriage rolled on, and Charlotte and Carroll followed on foot.
“Did you expect him, papa?” asked Charlotte.
“No, honey. The first thing I knew he came up to me on the ferry. He came on this morning; he has been in New York all day. I guess he wanted to buy something for Ina.”
“Her ring?” asked Charlotte, in a slightly awed tone.