“Papa, listen to me,” said she. “Really, there is no scrubbing nor sweeping nor washing nor ironing to be done here for quite a time. Marie has left the house in very good condition. There is enough money to pay for the laundry for some time, and as for the cooking, you can see that I shall love to do that. You know Aunt Catherine used to let me cook, that I always like to.”
Carroll made no reply.
“Papa, you are not well; you are all worn out,” Charlotte said. “Let us go into the den, and you smoke a cigar and I will read to you.”
Carroll shook his head. “No, dear, not to-night,” he said.
“We will have a game of cribbage.”
“No, dear, not to-night. You are tired, and you must go to bed. Take a book and go to bed and read. You are tired.”
“I am not very tired,” said Charlotte, but therein she did not speak the entire truth. Her spirit was leaping with happy buoyancy, but she could scarcely stand on her feet, she was so fatigued with her unaccustomed labor and the excitement of it all. There was a ringing in her ears, and her eyelids felt stiff; she was also a little hoarse. “Will you go to bed, too, papa?” said she, anxiously.
“I will go very soon, dear.”
“Won't you want anything else before you go?”
“No, darling.”