“You thought what?” said Carroll. His voice was exceedingly low and gentle, but Anna Carroll started.
“Nothing,” said she, hastily. “Nothing, Arthur.”
“Well, I just went everywhere with it,” Charlotte said again; “then I had to go to Anderson, after all. I just hated to. I don't like him. He laughed when Eddy and I went there to take back the candy.”
“He laughed because we took it back—a little thing like that,” said Eddy.
Carroll looked at him, and the boy cast his eyes down and took a spoonful of soup with an abashed air.
“He was the only one in Banbridge that seemed to have as much as twenty-five dollars in his money-drawer,” said Charlotte. “I began to think that Ina and I should have to give up going to New York.”
“Don't take any more checks around the shops here to cash, honey,” said Carroll. “Come to me; I'll fix it up some way. Amy, dear, are you all ready for the drive?”
“Yes, dear,” said Mrs. Carroll. She looked unusually pretty that night in a mauve gown of some thin, soft, wool material, with her old amethysts. Even her dark hair seemed to get amethystine shadows, and her eyes, too.
Carroll regarded her admiringly.
“Amy, darling, you do get lovelier every day,” he said.