On this particular occasion Uncle Joe sat down upon the log by the brook where Miss Amanda had once sat. Carolyn May stood before him. “Uncle Joe,” the little girl said, her blue eyes dark with trouble, “will you tell me something?” “I reckon so, child, if I can,” he responded, looking at her curiously. “Am—am I just charity, Uncle Joe?” “Huh? What’s that, Car’lyn May?” he exclaimed, startled. “Am I just a charity orphan? Didn’t my papa leave _any_ money a-_tall_ for me? Did you take me just out of charity?” “Bless me!” gasped the hardware dealer. “I—I wish you’d answer me, Uncle Joe,” went on Carolyn May with a brave effort to keep from crying. “Isn’t there _any_ money left for me—and Princey?” Joseph Stagg was too blunt a person to see his way clear to dodging the question. And he could not speak a falsehood. “Hum! Well, I’ll tell you, Car’lyn May. There isn’t _much_ left, and that’s a fact. It isn’t your father’s fault. He thought there was plenty. But a business he invested in got into bad hands, and the little nest egg he’d laid up for his family was lost.” “All lost, Uncle Joe?” quavered Carolyn May. “All lost,” repeated the hardware merchant firmly. “Then—then I _am_ just charity. And so’s Prince,” whispered Carolyn May. “I—I s’pose we could go to the poorhouse, Prince and me; but they mayn’t like dogs there.” “What’s that?” ejaculated Joseph Stagg in a sharp tone. “What’s that?” he repeated. “I—I know you aren’t just used to children,” went on Carolyn May, somewhat helplessly. “You’re real nice to me, Uncle Joe; but Prince and me—we really are a nuisance to you.” The man stared at her for a moment in silence, but the flush that dyed his cheeks was a flush of shame. The very word he had used on that fateful day when Carolyn May Cameron had come to The Corners! He had said to himself that she would be a nuisance. “Maybe we ought to have gone to a poorhouse right at first,” stammered the little girl, when Mr. Stagg broke in on her observation in a voice so rough that she was startled. “Bless me, child! Who put such an idea into your head?” “I—I thought of it myself, Uncle Joe.” “Don’t you like it any more here with Aunty Rose and—and me?” he demanded. “Oh, yes! Only—only, Uncle Joe, I don’t want to stay, if we’re a nuisance, Prince and me. I don’t want to stay, if you don’t love me.” Joseph Stagg had become quite excited. He stood up, running his fingers through his bushy hair, and knocking off his hat. “Bless me!” he finally cried once more. “How do you know I don’t love you, Car’lyn May?” “Why—why—But, Uncle Joe! how do I know you do love me?” demanded the little girl. “_You never told me so!_” The startled man sank upon the log again. “Well, maybe that’s so,” he murmured. “I s’pose it isn’t my way to be very—very—softlike. But listen here, Car’lyn May.” “Yes, sir.”