“I am not a bit afraid I’ll fall. There’s not the least danger; is there Trolley?” Caro continued.
Trolley opened his eyes, yawned scornfully and closed them again.
“There is one thing I am afraid of—at least I don’t like it, and that is the dark. I s’pose you don’t mind it ’cause you can see—I shouldn’t either if I could see in the dark. Aunt Charlotte says I mustn’t have a light to go to sleep by, and I love a light,—I just love it!” Caro’s eyes had grown sorrowful and her voice had in it the sound of tears.
On the porch of the house back among the trees Aunt Charlotte had waylaid the president. “I don’t know what to do with Caro, Charles. She isn’t exactly naughty,—and yet you couldn’t say she was good either—”
“You surprise me,” he replied, as his sister hesitated. “She impresses me as a decided character for one so young.”
“Decided! I should say so! You know—” Aunt Charlotte continued, “Elinor put her in my charge to be dealt with as seemed to me best, and I did think after bringing up your five that I knew something about it, but my hand has lost its cunning. You know I have never allowed a child a light to go to sleep by, but Caro insists upon having one, and lies awake and cries without it. What am I to do? Let her cry?”
“Oh no, I shouldn’t do that!” answered her brother hastily, gazing into his hat as if he hoped to find there some solution of the problem. “Suppose you let me consider the matter,” he added, as the striking of the hall clock reminded him of his engagement; “I’ll talk to her.”
“Much good it will do,” said Aunt Charlotte.
With a book under his arm Dr. Barrows started out, so absorbed in thought of his small granddaughter that he passed through the gate without seeing her till she called, “Goodby grandpa!”
“Why Caro! Aren’t you afraid you will fall?”