The next Friday, after school was out, Miss Amanda appeared at the Stagg home and suggested taking Carolyn May into the woods with her, “for the week-end,” as she laughingly said. Tim, the hackman, had brought the nurse home for a few hours and would take her back to Judy’s cabin. “Poor old Judy is much better, but she is still suffering and cannot be left alone for long,” Miss Amanda said. “Carolyn May will cheer her up.” Delighted, Carolyn May ran to get ready. Spring was far advanced and the woods were very beautiful. And to stay all night—two whole nights—in a log cabin seemed wonderfully attractive to the little girl. Aunty Rose let her go because she knew that Uncle Joe would approve of it. Indeed, they had talked the matter over already. Carolyn May missed Miss Amanda so that the hardware dealer had already agreed to some such arrangement as this. Mr. Parlow would drive over on Sunday afternoon and bring the little girl home. Of course, Prince had to go along. That Friday evening at supper matters in the big kitchen of the Stagg house were really at a serious pass. Joseph Stagg sat down to the table visibly without appetite. Aunty Rose drank one cup of tea after another without putting a crumb between her lips. “What’s the matter with you to-night, Joseph Stagg?” his housekeeper finally demanded. “Aren’t the victuals good enough for you?” “No,” said Mr. Stagg drily, “I think they’re poisoned. You don’t expect me to eat if you don’t set an example, do you?” “What I do has nothing to do with you, Joseph Stagg,” said Mrs. Kennedy, bridling. “I’m pecking and tasting at victuals all day long. I get so I despise ’em.” “Yes,” returned Mr. Stagg. “And if Hannah’s Car’lyn don’t come back, I shall get to despise ’em, too.” “Ha!” ejaculated the old lady. “You do miss the little thing.” “Miss her? Bless me! I wouldn’t believe it made so much difference having her about. It’s knowing she really is away, and is going to be gone for a couple of days, that’s the matter, I s’pose. Say, Aunty Rose!” “What is it, Joseph Stagg?” “What under the sun did we do before Hannah’s Car’lyn came here, anyway? Seems to me we didn’t really live, did we?” Aunty Rose had no answer to make to these questions. Uncle Joe missed kissing the little girl good-night. He even missed the rattle of Prince’s chain at the dog-house when he came back from the store late in the evening. The air had grown heavy and close, and he stood on the porch for a minute and snuffed knowingly at the odour a good deal as the dog might. “There’s a fire over the mountain, I guess,” he said to Aunty Rose when he entered the house. “We’re having a dry spring.” They went to bed. In the morning there was a smoky fog over everything—a fog that the sun did not dissipate, and behind which it looked like an enormous saffron ball.