“Well, child, you certainly have made a mess of yourself,” said the housekeeper. “Has she been annoying you, Jedidiah Parlow?” “She’s the only Stagg that ain’t annoyed me since her mother went away,” said the carpenter gruffly. Aunty Rose looked at him levelly. “I wonder,” she said. “But, you see, she isn’t wholly a Stagg.” This, of course, did not explain matters to Carolyn May in the least. Nor did what Aunty Rose said to her on the way home in the hot, stuffy hack help the little girl to understand the trouble between her uncle and Mr. Parlow. “Better not let Joseph Stagg see you so friendly with Jedidiah Parlow. Let sleeping dogs lie,” Mrs. Kennedy observed. CHAPTER VII—A TRAGIC SITUATION Such was the introduction of Carolyn May to The Corners. It was not a very exciting life she had entered into, but the following two or three weeks were very full. Aunty Rose insisted upon her being properly fitted out with clothing for the summer and fall. Mrs. Price sent on by express certain of the child’s possessions that would be useful, but Aunty Rose declared the local seamstress must make a number of dresses for Carolyn May. The latter had to go to the dressmaker’s house to be fitted, and that is how she became acquainted with Chet Gormley’s mother. Mrs. Gormley was helping the dressmaker, and they both made much of Carolyn May. Aunty Rose allowed her to go for her fittings alone—of course, with Prince as a companion—so, without doubt, Mrs. Gormley, who loved a “dish of gossip,” talked more freely with the little girl than she would have done in Mrs. Kennedy’s presence. One afternoon the little girl appeared at the dressmaker’s (it was only two houses nearer the centre of Sunrise Cove than the Parlow cottage) with Prince’s collar decorated with short, curly shavings. This Elizabethan ruff may or may not have caused the dog to look “extinguished,” as Carolyn May pointed out, but it certainly made him uncomfortable. However, he endured this dressing-up to please his little mistress. “I take it you’ve stopped at Jed Parlow’s shop, child,” said Mrs. Gormley with a sigh. “Yes, ma’am,” returned Carolyn May. “Do you know, he’s very lib’ral.” “‘Lib’ral’?” repeated Mrs. Gormley. “I never heard of old Jed Parlow bein’ accused of that before. Did you, Mrs. Maine?” Mrs. Maine was the dressmaker; and she bit off her words when she spoke, much as she bit off her threads. “No. I never—heard Jed Parlow—called that—no!” declared Mrs. Maine emphatically. “Why, yes,” little Carolyn May said quite eagerly, “he gives me all the shavings I want. I—I guess folks don’t just understand about Mr. Parlow,” she added, remembering what her uncle had first said about the carpenter. “He _is_ real lib’ral.” “It’s a wonder to me,” drawled Mrs. Gormley, “that he has a thing to do with _a certain party_, Mrs. Maine, considerin’ how his daughter feels towards that _certain party’s_ relation. What d’you think?”