ything unless I kept it, for I had no money at all
before. I have written a letter to Aunt Catherine, and she will get
it as soon as they get there. I don't think she will be angry; and if
she is, I don't care." Charlotte's voice had a ring of charming
defiance. She looked gayly at her father. "Come, papa," said she,
"the beefsteak is hot. Sit right up, and I will bring in the tea and
toast. There are some cakes, too, and a salad. I have got a beautiful
supper, papa. I never cooked any beefsteak before, but just look how
nice that is. Come, papa."

Carroll obediently drew his chair up to the table. It was daintily
set; there was even a little vase of flowers, rusty red
chrysanthemums, in the centre on the embroidered centrepiece.
Charlotte spoke of them when she brought in the tea and toast. "I
suppose I was extravagant, papa," she said, "but I stopped at a
florist's in New Sanderson and bought these. They did not cost
much--only ten cents for all these." She took her seat opposite her
father, and poured the tea. She put in the lumps of sugar daintily
with the silver tongs. Her face was beaming; she was lovely; she was
a darling. She looked over at her father as she extended his cup of
tea, and there was not a trace of self-love in the little face; it
was all love for and tender care of him. "Oh, I am so glad to be
home!" she said, with a deep sigh.

Carroll looked across at her with a sort of adoration and dependence
which were painful, coming from a father towards a child. His face
had lightened, but he still looked worn and pale and old. He was
become more and more conscious of the chloroform in his pocket, and
the shame and guilt of it.

"Why did you come back, honey?" he asked.

"I didn't want to go," Charlotte said, simply. "I wasn't happy going
away and leaving you alone, papa. I want to stay here with you, and
if you have to leave Banbridge I will go with you. I don't mind at
all not having much to get along with. I can get along with very
little."

"You would have been more comfortable with the others, dear," said
Carroll. He did not begin to eat his supper, but looked over it at
the girl's face.

"You are not eating anything, papa," said Charlotte. "Isn't the
beefsteak cooked right?"

"It is cooked beautifully, honey; just right. All is. I am glad to
see you come back. You don't just know what it means to me, dear, but
I am afraid--"

Charlotte laughed gayly. "I am not," said she. "Talk about
comf