The hardware merchant was fully as sentimental as the above letter indicated. If there were drops now in his eyes as he stooped and squinted at his little niece, it was because the sunlight was shining in his face and interfered for the moment with his vision. “Hannah’s Car’lyn,” muttered Mr. Stagg again. “Bless me, child! how did you get here from New York?” “On the cars, uncle.” Carolyn May was glad he asked that question instead of saying anything just then about her mother and father. “You see, Mr. Price thought I’d better come. He says you are my guardian—it’s in papa’s will, and would have been so in mamma’s will, if she’d made one. Mr. Price put me on the train and the conductor took care of me. Only, I rode ’most all the way with Prince in the baggage car. You see, he howled so.” Mr. Stagg looked askance at the dog, that yawned, smiled at him, and cocked his cropped ears. “Who is Mr. Price?” the storekeeper asked. “He’s a lawyer. He and his family live in the flat right across the hall from us. He’s written you a long letter about it. It’s in my bag. Didn’t you get the telegram he sent you last evening, Uncle Joe? A ‘night letter,’ he called it.” “Never got it,” replied Mr. Stagg shortly. “Well, you see, when papa and mamma had to go away so suddenly, they left me with the Prices. I go to school with Edna Price, and she slept with me at night in our flat—after the _Dunraven_ sailed.” “But—but what did this lawyer send you up here for?” asked Mr. Stagg, still with an eye on the dog. The question was a poser, and Carolyn May stammered: “I—I—Don’t guardians _always_ take their little girls home and look out for them?” “Hum, I don’t know.” The hardware merchant mused grimly. “But if your father left a will—However, I suppose I shall learn all about it in that lawyer’s letter.” “Oh, yes, sir!” the child said, hastily turning to open the bag. But he interposed: “We’ll wait about that, Car’lyn May. I—I guess we’d better go up to The Corners and see what Aunty Rose has to say about it. You understand, I couldn’t really keep you if she says ‘No!’” “Oh, Uncle Joe! couldn’t you?” “No,” he declared, wagging his head decidedly. “And what she’ll say to that dog——” “Oh” Carolyn May cried again, and put both arms suddenly about the neck of her canine friend. “Prince is just the _best_ dog, Uncle Joe. He never quarrels, and he’s almost always got a pleasant smile. He’s a universal fav’rite.” Prince yawned again, showing two perfect rows of wolflike teeth. Mr. Stagg cast a glance upward at the perturbed tom-cat. “I can see he’s a favourite with old Jimmy,” he said with added grimness. It must be confessed that Carolyn May was nervous about Prince. She was eager to explain.