“You look well to-night. That red gown suits you, honey.”
“The gown that that poor little beggar of a dress-maker is not paid for,” said Anna.
Carroll frowned. “I did not have enough for that,” he said. “It was impossible. I paid the other bills.”
“All dressmakers have to be cheated,” said Anna. “I never knew one that wasn't. I may as well reap the benefit of a universal law of cause and result, as some other woman.” Her voice rang hard, but she looked up affectionately at her brother. Suddenly she reached out her hand, caught his, and kissed it. “There is one thing we Carrolls pay in full, and never run in debt for, and that is our affection for and belief in one another,” said she. “We have our hearts full of one coin, anyway.”
“I suppose the world at large would prefer our pockets full of the coin of the realm,” answered Carroll, but he looked fondly down at his sister.
“I suppose so. If I had not worn this dress, I should send it back to that dressmaker.”
“But you have worn it.”
“Oh yes. Of course it is out of the question now. It is very pretty. Well, Arthur, if we go back far enough we are not responsible for this dress. We are responsible for none of the disasters which follow in our wake. That man down in Kentucky precipitated the whole thing. Arthur, you do look like a fiend whenever I mention that man!”
“I feel like one,” Carroll replied, coolly.
“Well, that man was directly responsible for the whole wreck—the general wreck, I mean. My own wreck is an individual matter, and, after all, I never fairly lowered my sails for that especial gale. I never will own to it.”