“And, then, you were always loved. Papa loved you, and so did mamma; and, of course, I always loved you to death, Princey!” she cried, putting both arms suddenly around the dog’s neck.
“I—I guess that’s where it must be,” pursued Carolyn May. “If persons are only loved, it doesn’t matter if they are charity. The love takes all the sting out of being poor, I guess. But I don’t know if Uncle Joe just does love me or not.”
The little girl had loitered along the road until it was now dinner time. Indeed, Aunty Rose would have had the meal on the table twenty minutes earlier. Mr. Stagg had evidently remained at The Corners to sell the cow and eat dinner, too—thus “killing two birds with one stone.”
And here Carolyn May and Prince were at Mr. Parlow’s carpenter shop, just as the old man was taking off his apron preparatory to going in to his dinner. When Miss Amanda was away nursing, the carpenter ate at a neighbour’s table.
Now, Miss Amanda appeared on the side porch.
“Where are you going, little girl?” she asked, smiling.
“Home to Aunty Rose,” said Carolyn May bravely. “But I guess I’m late for dinner.”
“I didn’t know but something had happened,” said Mr. Parlow, going, heavy-footed, up the porch steps, “when I seen Joe Stagg hikin’ by more’n two hour ago.”
Carolyn May told about the man wanting to buy the cow. Mr. Parlow sputtered something from the depths of the wash-basin about the buyer “payin’ two prices for the critter, if he bought her of Joe Stagg,” but his daughter hastened to cover this by saying:
“Don’t you want to come in and eat with us, Carolyn May? Your own dinner will be cold.”