“I—I just heard about it,” confessed the little visitor. “Not from Aunty Rose Kennedy?” “Oh, no, ma’am.” “Did that—Did your uncle tell you such a thing?” “Oh, no! He’s just as good as he can be. But, of course, he doesn’t much like children. You know he doesn’t. And he just ’bominates dogs! “So, you see,” added the child, “I _am_ charity. I’m not like other little girls that’s got papas and mammas. Course, I knowed that before, but it didn’t ever seem—seem so hard as it does now,” she confessed, with a sob. “My dear! my dear!” cried Miss Amanda, dropping on her knees beside the little girl, “don’t talk so! I know your uncle must love you.” “Do you s’pose so?” queried Carolyn May, trying not to cry. “He _must_! How could he help loving you? Immersed as Joseph Stagg is in business and his own selfish projects, he cannot be so hard-hearted as not to love his only sister’s child.” Carolyn May clutched at her, suddenly and tightly. “Oh, Miss Mandy!” she gasped, “don’t you s’pose he loves other folks, too? You know—folks he’d begun to love ever so long ago?” The woman’s smooth cheeks burned suddenly, and she stood up. “I’m ’most sure he’d never stop loving a person, if he’d once begun to love ’em,” said Carolyn May, with a high opinion of the faithfulness of Uncle Joe’s character. “But how do I know he ever has loved me the least tiny bit?” Miss Amanda was evidently impressed by this query. How could the child be sure? Mr. Stagg was not in the habit of revealing his deeper thoughts and feelings to the world. And, yet, if she would but admit it, Amanda Parlow believed that she, if any person could, rightly measured the hardware dealer’s character. She sat down in a low rocking-chair and drew Carolyn May into her lap. The little girl sobbed a bit, but rested her head quietly on the woman’s bosom. “Do you want to know if your Uncle Joe loves you?” she asked Carolyn May at last. “Do you?” “Oh, I do!” cried the little girl. “Then ask him,” advised Miss Amanda. “That’s the only way to do with Joe Stagg, if you want to get at the truth. Out with it, square, and ask him.” “Oh, Miss Mandy! would _you_ dare?” gasped Carolyn May. “It doesn’t matter what I’d dare,” said the other drily. “You go ahead and ask him—and ask him point-blank.” “I will do it,” Carolyn May said seriously. Afterwards she wondered if that were not the way, too, to settle the difficulty between Uncle Joe and pretty Miss Amanda. After the child had gone the woman went back into the little cottage, and her countenance did not wear the farewell smile that Carolyn May had looked back to see.