"Oh, that's nice! You can talk when you are sawing and fitting things, can't you? Not like when you are nailing. Then your mouth's full of nails-like Mrs. Gormley's is full of pins when she's fitting you."

"Miz Gormley never fitted me to nothin' yet," returned Mr. Parlow grimly, "less 'twas a suit of gossip."

Carolyn May did not notice this remark, nor would she have understood it. She thought Chet Gormley's mother a very interesting woman, indeed.

She always knew so much about everybody.

Just now, moreover, Carolyn May had something else in her mind; so she ignored Mr. Parlow's remark about the seamstress. She asked in a half-whisper:

"Mr. Parlow, did you hear about what happened yesterday?"

"Eh?" he queried, eyeing her quizzically. "Does anything ever happen on Sunday?"

"Something did on this Sunday," cried the little girl. "Didn't you hear about the snake?"

"What d'ye mean-snake? The old original snake-that sarpint ye read about in the Scriptures?" demanded the carpenter, ruffling up his grey hair till it looked like the topknot of a very cross c.o.c.katoo.

"Oh, no, Mr. Parlow!" and then little Carolyn May explained. She told the story with such earnestness that he stopped working to listen, watching her with as shrewd, sharp eyes as ever a real c.o.c.katoo possessed.

"Humph!" was his grunted comment at the end. "Well!"

"Don't you think that was real exciting?" asked Carolyn May. "And just see how it _almost_ brought my Uncle Joe and your Miss Amanda together.

Don't you see?"

Mr. Parlow actually jumped. "What's that you say, child?" he rasped out grimly. "Bring Mandy and Joe Stagg together? Well, I guess not!"

"Oh, Mr. Parlow, don't you think that would be just be-a-_you_-ti-ful?"

cried the little girl with a lingering emphasis upon the most important word. "Don't you see how happy they would be?"

"I'd like to know who told you they'd be happy?" he demanded crossly.

"Why! wouldn't they be? If they truly love each other and could get over being mad?"

"Humph!" growled Mr. Parlow, "you let their 'mad' alone. 'Tain't none of your business." Mr. Parlow was really all ruffled up, just as though he were angry at Carolyn May's suggestion. "I don't know as anybody's pertic'lar anxious to see that daughter of mine and Joe Stagg friendly again. No good would come of it."

Carolyn May looked at him sorrowfully. Mr. Parlow had quite disappointed her. It was plain to be seen that he was not the right one to advise with about the matter. The little girl sighed.

"I really did s'pose you'd want to see Miss Amanda happy, Mr. Parlow,"

she whispered.

"Happy? Bah!" snarled the old man, setting vigorously to work again. He acted as if he wished to say no more, and let the little girl depart without another word.

Carolyn May really could not understand it-at least, she could not immediately. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Mr.

Parlow to wish to see his daughter happy and content.

And the little girl knew that Miss Amanda was not happy. As she became better and better acquainted with the woman whom she thought so beautiful she was more and more convinced that the carpenter's daughter was not of a cheerful spirit.

Mr. Jedidiah Parlow did not seem to care in the least. That must be, Carolyn May told herself, because he was under the influence of the Dark Spirit himself. He was always looking down. Like Mr. Stagg, the old carpenter was immersed in his daily tasks and seldom thought of anything else.

"Why, he doesn't even know what it means to be happy!" thought Carolyn May. "He never looks _up_, or _out_, or _away_ from his carpenter's bench. Dear me! of course he isn't interested in Uncle Joe and Miss Amanda's being in love."

That Mr. Parlow might have a selfish reason for desiring to keep his daughter and Joseph Stagg apart did not enter the little girl's mind.

She was too young to appreciate such a situation as that might suggest.

After that Sunday walk, however, Carolyn May was never so much afraid of her uncle as before. Why, he had even called Prince "good dog"! Truly, Mr. Joseph Stagg was being transformed-if slowly.

He could not deny to himself that, to a certain extent, he was enjoying the presence of his little niece at The Corners. If he only could decide just what to do with the personal property of his sister Hannah and her husband down in the New York apartment. Never in his life had he been so long deciding a question. He could not bring himself to the point of writing the lawyer either to sublet the furnished apartment or to sell the furniture in it. Nor could he decide to go down himself to sort over Hannah's little treasures, put the remainder in an auction room, and close up the apartment.

He had really loved Hannah. He knew it now, did Joseph Stagg, every time he looked at the lovely little child who had come to live with him at The Corners. Why! just so had Hannah looked when she was a little thing.

The same deep, violet eyes, and sunny hair, and laughing lips--

Mr. Stagg sometimes actually found a reflection of the cheerful figure of "Hannah's Car'lyn" coming between him and the big ledger over which he spent so many of his waking hours.

Once he looked up from the ledger-it was on a Sat.u.r.day morning-and really did see the bright figure of the little girl standing before him.

It was no dream or fancy, for old Jimmy, the cat, suddenly shot to the topmost shelf, squalling with wild abandon. Prince was nosing along at Carolyn May's side.

"Bless me!" croaked Mr. Stagg. "That dog of yours, Car'lyn May, will give Jimmy a conniption fit yet. What d'you want down here?"

Carolyn May told him. A man had come to the house to buy a cow, and Aunty Rose had sent the little girl down to tell Mr. Stagg to come home and "drive his own bargain."

"Well, well," said Mr. Stagg, locking the ledger in the safe, "I'll hustle right out and tend to it. Don't see why the man couldn't have waited till noontime. Hey, you, Chet!"

Chet Gormley was not down in the cellar on this occasion. He appeared, wearing a much soiled ap.r.o.n, and with very black hands, having been sorting bolts.

"Here I am, Mr. Stagg," said the boy cheerfully. "Mornin', Car'lyn May.

And how's our friend?" and he ventured to pat Prince's head, having become well acquainted with the dog by this time.

"Never mind that dog, Chet," said Mr. Stagg. "You pay attention to me.

Look out for the store. Don't have any fooling. And--"

"Oh, uncle! may I stay, too? Me and Prince?" cried Carolyn May. "We'll be good."

"Pshaw! Yes, if you want to," responded Mr. Stagg, hurrying away. He did not wish to be bothered with her just then. He desired to walk rapidly.

Chet went to wash his hands and remove the ap.r.o.n. If he was to act as clerk instead of ch.o.r.e boy, he certainly must "dress the part." Besides, he did not want to be so dirty in Carolyn May's presence. It seemed to Chet Gormley as though a boy must look his very best to be worthy of companionship with the radiant little vision that Mr. Stagg referred to as "Hannah's Car'lyn."

"My! your uncle's changin' more and more, ain't he?" remarked Chet, the optimistic. "He does sometimes almost laugh, Car'lyn. I never see the beat of it!"

"Oh, is he?" cried the little child. "Is he _looking up_ more? Do you think he is, Chet?"

"I positively do," Chet a.s.sured her.

"And he hasn't always got his nose in that old ledger?"

"Well-I wouldn't say that he neglected business, no, ma'am," said the boy honestly. "You see, we men have got to think of business mostly. But he sure is thinkin' of some other things, too-ya-as, indeedy!"

"What things, Chet?" Carolyn May asked anxiously, hoping that Uncle Joe had shown some recovered interest in Miss Amanda and that Chet had noticed it.

"Why-well-Now, you see, there's that house you used to live in. You know about that?"