“I can’t imagine what you expect to ascertain,” said Alice, “unless it be how many slices of toast Mary’s starry-eyed one has consumed.”
“You see,” continued Mrs. Carter, smiling, “it is proper, now that he has recovered the use of his faculties, to write to his friends to let them know where and how he is. They must be terribly uneasy, whoever they are. But I cannot write to them without first learning of him their names and addresses. Do you see?”
“Capital! and perfectly legitimate,” cried Alice. “And mind, mother, just so soon as he gives you the names find an excuse—you will need pen, ink, and paper, you know—find an excuse and fly to us,—yes, fly, and tell us all about it. Don’t write the letters first, for we shall be positively dying to know who he is. Now mind, mother dear, fly!”
Charley rose hastily, knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and laid it on the mantel-piece.
“Won’t you fill up?” said Mr. Carter.
“Not just at present,” said Charley, looking at Mrs. Carter.
“Very well,” said Mrs. Carter, “I shall fly,” and she looked down at her plump figure and laughed; “and do try to live till I get back.”
“May I accompany you?” asked Charley.
There were three little shrieks from the girls.
“Talk about a woman’s curiosity,” exclaimed Alice; and they all lifted up their hands and let them fall upon the table. Charley, who was just passing out into the hall, turned and smiled. It was the answer that he returned to most things that were said to him.