“Just like a big, big pillow,” thought the little girl. “And if I do get into it, I’m li’ble to sink down, and down, and _down_, till I’m buried, and won’t ever be able to get up in the morning.” Carolyn May had never seen anything softer to sleep on than a mattress of pressed felt. A feather bed might be all right, but she felt more than a little shy of venturing into it. The window was open, and she went to it and looked out. A breath of honeysuckle blew in. Then, below, on the porch, she heard the uneasy movements of Prince. And he whined. “Oh, poor Princey! He doesn’t know what’s become of me,” thought Carolyn May. Downstairs, in the great kitchen, Aunty Rose was stepping back and forth, from table to sink, from sink to dresser, from dresser to pantry. As the daylight faded, she lit the lamp which swung from the ceiling and gave light to all the room. It would have been impossible for the wisest person to guess what were the thoughts in Aunty Rose’s mind. She might have been thinking of that sunny-haired, blue-eyed little girl upstairs, so lately bereft of those whom she loved, a stranger to-night in a new home, going to bed for the first time in her life alone; aye, she _might_ have been thinking of her. Or she might merely have been deciding in her mind whether to have batter cakes or waffles for breakfast. A glad little yelp from the dog tied to the rail of the porch sounded suddenly. Even Aunty Rose could not mistake that cry of welcome, and she knew very little about dogs—to their credit, at least. She had heard no other suspicious sound, but now she crossed the room with firm tread and opened the porch door. Yes, a little white figure was down there, hugging the whining mongrel; and if the latter could have spoken English he could have made it no whit plainer how glad he was to see his little mistress. Carolyn May’s tearful face was raised from Prince’s rough neck. “Oh, Aunty Rose! Oh, Aunty Rose!” she sobbed. “I just _had_ to say good-night to somebody. Edna’s mother came and heard our prayers and tucked us into my bed after my papa and mamma went away. So it didn’t seem so bad. “But to-night—Why! to-night there isn’t anybody cares whether I go to bed or not! But Prince! Prince, _he_ knows just how—how _empty_ I feel!” The woman stood in the doorway with the light behind her, so Carolyn May could not see her face; her voice was perfectly calm when she said: “You would better come in now and wash your face and hands again before going to bed. That dog has been lapping them with his tongue.” Sobbing, the little girl obeyed. The dog curled down on the porch as though satisfied, having seen that his little mistress was all right. The latter trotted over the cold linoleum to the sink and did as Mrs. Kennedy directed. Then she would have gone back up the stairs without a word had not Aunty Rose spoken. “Come here, Carolyn May,” she said quite as sternly as before.