Charlotte adored her Aunt Anna, and seldom took any exception to
anything which she said or did, but then she turned upon her.

"Poor papa is hurt by what Aunt Anna said," she declared, severely,
"and I don't wonder. Here he cannot afford to buy as much to eat as
he would like, and hasn't enough to pay the butcher, and Aunt Anna
says things like that. I don't wonder he is hurt. It is cruel." Tears
flashed into Charlotte's eyes. She looked accusingly at her aunt, who
laughed.

"I think as much of your father as you do," said she, "and I know him
better. Don't fret, honey."

"Your aunt is ill, dear," said Mrs. Carroll, who always veered to the
side of the attacked party, and who, moreover, seldom grasped
sarcasm, "and besides, sweetheart," she added, "I don't see what she
said that could have hurt Arthur's feelings." Just then Carroll
passed the window towards the stable. "There," she cried,
triumphantly, "he is just going around to order the carriage. He had
finished his luncheon. He never did care much for that kind of
pudding. You are making too much of it, Charlotte, dear."

"No, I am not," said Charlotte, firmly. "Papa did not like the way
Anna spoke; he was hurt. It was cruel." She got up and left the table
also, and a soft sob was heard as she closed the dining-room door
behind her.

"That dear child is so sensitive and nervous, and she thinks so much
of Arthur," Mrs. Carroll said. "Give me the pudding sauce, Marie."

Eddy, who had been busily eating his pudding, looked up from his
empty plate. "Aunt Anna did mean it was fortunate she had lost her
appetite, because there wasn't enough to eat," he declared, in his
sweet treble. "You ain't very sharp, Amy. She did mean that, and that
was the reason papa went out. But it was true, too. There isn't
enough to eat. I haven't had near enough pudding, and it is all gone.
The dish is scraped. There is none left for Marie and Martin, either."

"I want no pudding," said Marie, unexpectedly, from behind Mrs.
Carroll's chair. She spoke with a certain sullenness, and her eyes
were red. She had a large, worn place in the sleeve of her white
shirt-waist, and she was given to lifting her arm and surveying it
with an air of covert injury and indignation.

"The omelet is all gone, too," said Eddy. "Marie and Martin haven't
got anything to eat."

"Oh, hush, dear!" said Mrs. Carroll. "Marie can cook another omelet."
The Hungarian girl opened her mouth as if to speak, then s