Hannah Stagg, the hardware merchant’s only sister, had gone away from home quite fifteen years previously. Mr. Stagg had never seen Hannah again; but this slight, blue-eyed, sunny-haired girl was a replica of his sister, and in some dusty corner of Mr. Stagg’s heart there dwelt a very faithful memory of Hannah.
Nothing had served to estrange the brother and sister save time and distance. Hannah had been a patient correspondent, and Joseph Stagg had always acknowledged the receipt of her letters in a business-like way, if with brevity.
“Dear Hannah:
“Yours of the 12th inst. to hand and contents noted. Glad to learn of your continued good health and that of your family, this leaving me in the same condition.
“Yours to command,
“J. Stagg.”
The hardware merchant was fully as sentimental as the above letter indicated. If there were drops now in his eyes as he stooped and squinted at his little niece, it was because the sunlight was shining in his face and interfered for the moment with his vision.
“Hannah’s Car’lyn,” muttered Mr. Stagg again. “Bless me, child! how did you get here from New York?”
“On the cars, uncle.” Carolyn May was glad he asked that question instead of saying anything just then about her mother and father.
“You see, Mr. Price thought I’d better come. He says you are my guardian—it’s in papa’s will, and would have been so in mamma’s will, if she’d made one. Mr. Price put me on the train and the conductor took care of me. Only, I rode ’most all the way with Prince in the baggage car. You see, he howled so.”