“I 'ain't got nothing',” said the boy.
“Then why—”
“I was going home from the store, and I thought I'd jest stop an' let you know there wa'n't no telegrams yet. It wa'n't much out of my way.”
Charlotte gasped.
“I thought it might be a relief to your mind to know,” said the boy. “I thought you might be watchin'. I saw your father didn't come on that other train. I was up at the station on an errand.”
“Thank you,” said Charlotte, feebly.
The boy lingered a second with bashful eyes on her face, then he said again that he thought he would just stop in and let her know. He was going down the path, and she was just closing the door, when he called back that she might have a telegram if her father sent it by the postal-telegraph system.
“You won't get none from our place after now,” he said, “for Mr. Drake won't bring up none so late; but if your father sends that way, you could get one, mebbe.”
“Thank you,” replied Charlotte, and the boy went away.
When Charlotte re-entered the house and locked the door, a loneliness which was like a positive chill struck over her. It was much worse now since she had been in communication with another human being.