Carolyn May was not a sly child, but she was a secretive one. There is a difference. She had many thoughts in her little head that her adult friends did not suspect. She studied things out for herself. Being a child, her conclusions were not always wise ones.

She felt that she might be a stumbling-block to the complete happiness of Uncle Joe and Amanda Parlow. They might have to set aside their own desires because of her. She felt vaguely that this must not be.

"I can go home," she repeated over and over to herself.

"Home" was still in the New York City apartment house where she had lived so happily before that day when her father and mother had gone aboard the ill-fated _Dunraven_.

Their complete loss out of the little girl's life had never become fixed in her mind. It had never seemed a surety-not even after her talks with the sailor, Benjamin Hardy.

Hardy had long since left the locality, having taken a berth again on one of the lake schooners. n.o.body seemed to have much time to give to Carolyn May just at this time. Wherever she wandered about the neighbourhood people were talking about the coming wedding of Uncle Joe and Miss Amanda. Even Miss Minnie, at school, was quite in a flutter over it.

Friday afternoon the little girl went to the churchyard and made neat the three little graves and the one long one on the plot which belonged to Aunty Rose Kennedy. She almost burst into tears that evening, too, when she kissed Aunty Rose good-night at bedtime. Uncle Joe was down at the Parlows. He and Mr. Parlow actually smoked their pipes together in harmony on the cottage porch.

Aunty Rose was usually an early riser; but the first person up at The Corners on that Sat.u.r.day morning was Carolyn May. She was dressed a full hour before the household was usually astir.

She came downstairs very softly, carrying the heavy bag she had brought with her the day she had first come to The Corners. She had her purse in her pocket, with all her money in it, and she had in the bag most of her necessary possessions. She wore a black dress, but not the one she had worn when she came from New York. That had been outgrown long since.

She washed her face and hands. Her hair was already combed and neatly braided. From the pantry she secured some bread and b.u.t.ter, and, with this in her hand, unlocked the porch door and went out. Prince got up, yawning, and shook himself. She sat on the steps to eat the bread and b.u.t.ter, dividing it with Prince.

"This is such a beautiful place, Princey," she whispered to the mongrel.

"We are going to miss it dreadfully, I s'pose. But, then- Well, we'll have the park. Only, you can't run so free there."

Prince whined. Carolyn May got up and shook the crumbs from her lap.

Then she unchained the dog and picked up her bag. Prince pranced about her, glad to get his morning run.

The little girl and the dog went out of the gate and started along the road towards Sunrise Cove. n.o.body seemed to be astir. She looked back and waved her hand at the Stagg house. She looked at the church, the blacksmith shop, and the store. She bade them all good-bye.

Prince came to walk beside her and whined. He evidently could not understand her going away from the place so early.

But Carolyn May knew what she was about. She knew all about the train that went south. It left Sunrise Cove station before most people were up, even at this time of year.

The houses had all been asleep at The Corners. So was the Parlow cottage when she trudged by. She would have liked to see Miss Amanda, to kiss her just once. But she must not think of that! It brought such a "gulpy"

feeling into her throat.

n.o.body saw Carolyn May and Prince until she reached Main Street. Then the sun had risen, and a few early persons were astir; but n.o.body appeared who knew the child or who cared anything about her.

At the railroad station n.o.body spoke to her, for she bought no ticket.

She was not exactly clear in her mind about tickets, anyway. She had found the conductor on the train coming up from New York a kind and pleasant man, and she decided to do all her business with him.

Had she attempted to buy a ticket of the station agent, undoubtedly he would have made some inquiry. As it was, when the train came along, Carolyn May, after seeing Prince put into the baggage car, climbed aboard with the help of a brakeman.

"Of course, if he howls _awfully_," she told the baggageman, who gave her a check without question, "I shall have to go in that car and sit with him."

There were not many people in the car. They steamed away from Sunrise Cove, and Carolyn May dabbled her eyes with her handkerchief and told herself to be brave.

The stations were a long way apart and the conductor did not come through for some time. When he did open the door and come into the car Carolyn May started up with a glad cry. It was the very conductor who had been so kind to her on the trip up from New York.

The railroad man knew her at once and shook hands most heartily with her.

"Where are you going, Carolyn May?" he asked.

"All the way with you, sir," she replied.

"To New York?"

"Yes, sir. I'm going home again."

"Then I'll see you later," he said, without asking for her ticket.

The conductor remembered the little girl very well, although he did not remember all the details of her story. Nine months before she had gone up to Sunrise Cove with him to visit relatives. As she had travelled alone then, he did not think it strange that she was now travelling back again without any guardian.

By-and-by he came back and sat down beside her. Carolyn May took out her purse and offered him money for her fare.

"Didn't they buy you a ticket?" he asked in surprise.

"No, sir," she told him honestly.

"Well, I'll tend to it for you. You'll want that money for candy and moving-picture shows in the city."

He was very kind to her and brought her satisfying news about Prince in the baggage car. The brakeman was nice, too, and brought her water to drink in a paper cup. And even the "candy butcher" made the journey pleasanter by his attentions. He once dropped a package of candy in Carolyn May's lap and then forgot to pick it up again!

So, altogether, she had a pleasant, if tiresome, ride to New York City.

At one place the brakeman brought into the car for her some sandwiches and a gla.s.s of milk. He a.s.sured her, too, that the men in the baggage car had divided their lunches with Prince and had given him water.

She slept part of the time, and while she was awake there was so much going on that she could not feel very lonely. The excitement of travelling had taken that empty feeling out of her heart.

At last, the long stretches of streets at right angles with the tracks appeared-asphalt streets lined with tall apartment houses. This could be nothing but New York City. Her papa had told her long ago that there was no other city like it in the world.

She knew One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street and its elevated station.

That was not where she had boarded the train going north, when Mr. Price had placed her in the conductor's care, but it was nearer her old home-that she knew. So she told the brakeman she wanted to get out there, and he arranged to have Prince released.

The little girl alighted and got her dog without misadventure. She was down on the street level before the train continued on its journey downtown.

At the Grand Central Terminal the conductor was met with a telegram sent from Sunrise Cove by a certain frantic hardware dealer, and that telegram told him something about Carolyn May of which he had not thought to ask.

CHAPTER XXIX-THE HOMING OF CAROLYN MAY

It was some distance from the railroad station to the block on which Carolyn May Cameron had lived all her life until she had gone to stay with Uncle Joe Stagg. The child knew she could not take the car, for the conductor would not let Prince ride.

She started with the dog on his leash, for he was not muzzled. The bag became heavy very soon, but she staggered along with it uncomplainingly.

Her dishevelled appearance, with the bag and the dog, gave people who noticed her the impression that Carolyn May had been away, perhaps, for a "fresh-air" vacation, and was now coming home, brown and weary, to her expectant family.