“Where is the letter that this Mr. Price wrote and sent by you, Car’lyn?” he asked as he was about to depart for the store.
The little girl asked permission to leave the table, and then ran to open her bag. Mr. Stagg said doubtfully:
“I s’pose you’ll have to put her somewhere—for the present. Don’t see what else we can do, Aunty Rose.”
“You may be sure, Joseph Stagg, that her room was ready for her a week ago,” Mrs. Kennedy rejoined, quite unruffled.
The surprised hardware dealer gurgled something in his throat. “What room?” he finally stammered.
“That which was her mother’s. Hannah Stagg’s room. It is next to mine, and she will come to no harm there.”
“Hannah’s!” exclaimed Mr. Stagg. “Why, that ain’t been slept in since she went away.”
“It is quite fit, then,” said Aunty Rose, “that it should be used for her child. Trouble nothing about things that do not concern you, Joseph Stagg,” she added with, perhaps, additional sternness.
Carolyn May did not hear this. She now produced the letter from her lawyer neighbour.
“There it is, Uncle Joe,” she said. “I—I guess he tells you all about me in it.”