On this Sunday she wished particularly to get him off by himself. Her heart was filled with a great purpose. She felt that they must come to an understanding.
They walked to the very glade where they had met Miss Amanda Parlow, and Prince had killed the blacksnake. Somehow, their steps always seemed to turn that way. But they had never come upon Miss Amanda in their walks a second time.
On this particular occasion Uncle Joe sat down upon the log by the brook where Miss Amanda had once sat. Carolyn May stood before him.
“Uncle Joe,” the little girl said, her blue eyes dark with trouble, “will you tell me something?”
“I reckon so, child, if I can,” he responded, looking at her curiously.
“Am—am I just charity, Uncle Joe?”
“Huh? What’s that, Car’lyn May?” he exclaimed, startled.
“Am I just a charity orphan? Didn’t my papa leave any money a-tall for me? Did you take me just out of charity?”
“Bless me!” gasped the hardware dealer.
“I—I wish you’d answer me, Uncle Joe,” went on Carolyn May with a brave effort to keep from crying. “Isn’t there any money left for me—and Princey?”