“I thought you must be,” she said simply, “because you can’t go everywhere.”
“Then why are you lonely? You can go where you please.”
“But I miss mamma and papa and the boys sometimes, and then—” she leaned against his chair and spoke in a confidential tone, “I’m afraid of the dark.”
“So am I,” Walter remarked gravely.
“Are you? I didn’t know grown up people ever were—but if you’ll just get a candle you won’t be—any more. The dark is very nice when you can see it.”
As Walter seemed interested, watching her gravely as he stroked Trolley, Caro went on to explain more fully about the candle, and how her grandfather had said she could be one herself. “And so,” she concluded, “I thought Trolley might be a candle too, and bring you a little cheer.”
“I am much obliged. What do you say his name is?” Walter asked.
“Cousin Charlie named him for the trolley cars; wasn’t that funny? And he used to live here you know—that is why I thought you would like to see him. He came to our house and just would stay, though Aunt Charlotte sent him back ever so many times.”
“I believe I do recall something of the kind. He was one of my sister’s pets.”
“Do you suppose she’d like to see him?” Caro asked.