“Of course, uncles aren’t like little girls’ _real_ parents. Papas and mammas are glad, I guess, to pay for clothes and food and schoolbooks, and _every_thing. But if a little girl is only a charity orphan, there aren’t really any folks that want to support her. I wonder if I ought to stay with Uncle Joe and Aunty Rose and make them so much trouble?” The thought bit deep into the little girl’s very impressionable mind. The idle chatter of the not very wise, if harmless, Chet Gormley was destined to cause Carolyn May much perturbation of spirit. She did not remain at the store until her uncle returned. Chet urged her to stay and go home with him for dinner when Mr. Stagg came back, but the little girl did not feel that she could do this. She wished to be alone and to think over this really tragic thing that faced her—the ugly fact that she was a “charity child.” “And you’re a charity dog, Prince Cameron,” she said aloud, looking down at the mongrel who walked sedately beside her along the country road. “I don’t expect you ever thought of it. You never did have any money, and you don’t really know who your parents are. You began being a charity dog so early that it hasn’t never mattered to you at all—that’s how I s’pose it must be. “And, then, you were always loved. Papa loved you, and so did mamma; and, of course, I always loved you to death, Princey!” she cried, putting both arms suddenly around the dog’s neck. “I—I guess that’s where it must be,” pursued Carolyn May. “If persons are only loved, it doesn’t matter if they are charity. The love takes all the sting out of being poor, I guess. But I don’t know if Uncle Joe just does love me or not.” The little girl had loitered along the road until it was now dinner time. Indeed, Aunty Rose would have had the meal on the table twenty minutes earlier. Mr. Stagg had evidently remained at The Corners to sell the cow and eat dinner, too—thus “killing two birds with one stone.” And here Carolyn May and Prince were at Mr. Parlow’s carpenter shop, just as the old man was taking off his apron preparatory to going in to his dinner. When Miss Amanda was away nursing, the carpenter ate at a neighbour’s table. Now, Miss Amanda appeared on the side porch. “Where are you going, little girl?” she asked, smiling. “Home to Aunty Rose,” said Carolyn May bravely. “But I guess I’m late for dinner.” “I didn’t know but something had happened,” said Mr. Parlow, going, heavy-footed, up the porch steps, “when I seen Joe Stagg hikin’ by more’n two hour ago.” Carolyn May told about the man wanting to buy the cow. Mr. Parlow sputtered something from the depths of the wash-basin about the buyer “payin’ two prices for the critter, if he bought her of Joe Stagg,” but his daughter hastened to cover this by saying: “Don’t you want to come in and eat with us, Carolyn May? Your own dinner will be cold.”