Mr. Stagg looked askance at the dog, that yawned, smiled at him, and cocked his cropped ears.
“Who is Mr. Price?” the storekeeper asked.
“He’s a lawyer. He and his family live in the flat right across the hall from us. He’s written you a long letter about it. It’s in my bag. Didn’t you get the telegram he sent you last evening, Uncle Joe? A ‘night letter,’ he called it.”
“Never got it,” replied Mr. Stagg shortly.
“Well, you see, when papa and mamma had to go away so suddenly, they left me with the Prices. I go to school with Edna Price, and she slept with me at night in our flat—after the Dunraven sailed.”
“But—but what did this lawyer send you up here for?” asked Mr. Stagg, still with an eye on the dog.
The question was a poser, and Carolyn May stammered: “I—I—Don’t guardians always take their little girls home and look out for them?”
“Hum, I don’t know.” The hardware merchant mused grimly. “But if your father left a will—However, I suppose I shall learn all about it in that lawyer’s letter.”
“Oh, yes, sir!” the child said, hastily turning to open the bag. But he interposed:
“We’ll wait about that, Car’lyn May. I—I guess we’d better go up to The Corners and see what Aunty Rose has to say about it. You understand, I couldn’t really keep you if she says ‘No!’”