“Why, Eddy dear, is that you?” cried Charlotte.
Eddy stood before her and surveyed her with commiseration and a strong sense of personal grievance and reproach. “Yes, it's me,” said he. “Papa told me to go to walk with you, and I didn't know which way you went, and I couldn't find out for a long time. Then I saw Mr. Anderson taking you here, and I ran, but I couldn't catch up. He's got awful long legs.” Eddy looked accusingly at Anderson's legs.
“It was too bad,” said Charlotte.
“You were awful silly to get so scared at nothing,” Eddy pursued. “I saw that tramp. He looked to me like a real nice man. Girls are always imagining things. You'd better eat that cake, Charlotte. You look awful. That looks like real nice cake.”
“Bless your heart, you shall have some,” Mrs. Anderson said, and Eddy accepted with alacrity the golden block of cake which was offered him.
“Why, Eddy!” Charlotte said.
“Now, Charlotte, you know we never have cake like this at home,” Eddy said, biting into the cake. “Not since the egg-man won't trust us any more. I know this kind of cake takes lots of eggs. I heard Marie say so when Amy asked her to make it.”
Charlotte colored pitifully, and made another effort to rise. “Indeed, I think we must go now,” said she. “Come, Eddy.”
Mrs. Anderson turned to her son for support. “I tell her she must not think of going until after tea,” she said. “Then if she is not able to walk, we will get a carriage.”
Eddy removed the fast-diminishing square of cake from his mouth and regarded his sister with an expression of the most open ingenuousness. “Now, Charlotte, I'll tell you something,” he said.