Part 13 (1/2)

”But, Arthur,” pleaded Mrs. Carroll, ”what else is there left for us to worry about?”

Carroll's mouth twitched a little, but he looked and spoke quite gravely. ”Well,” he said, ”I am going now, and I shall find the boy and bring him home safe and sound, and-- Amy, darling, have you eaten anything?”

”Oh, Arthur,” cried his wife, reproachfully, ”do you think I could eat when Eddy did not come home to dinner, and always something dreadful has happened other times when he has not come? Eddy has never stayed away just for mischief, and then come home as good as ever. Something has always happened which has been the reason.”

”Well, perhaps he has stayed away for mischief alone, and that is what has happened now instead of the shooting,” said Carroll.

”Arthur, if--if he has, you surely will not--”

”Arthur, you will not punish that boy if he does come home again safe and sound?” cried his sister.

Carroll laughed. ”Have either of you eaten anything?” he asked.

”Of course not,” replied his sister, indignantly.

”How could we, dear?” said his wife. ”I had thought I was quite hungry, and when the butcher sent the roast, after all--”

”Perhaps I had better wait and not pay him until he does not send anything,” murmured Anna Carroll, as if to herself. ”And when the roast did come, I was glad, but, after all, I could not touch it.”

”Well, you must both eat to-night to make up for it,” said Carroll.

”I had thought you would as soon have it cold for dinner to-night,”

said Mrs. Carroll, in her soft, complaining voice. ”We would not have planned it for our noon lunch, but we were afraid to ask the butcher for chops, too, and as long as there were no eggs for breakfast, we felt the need of something substantial; but, of course, when that darling boy did not come, and we had reason to think he was shot, we could not--” Mrs. Carroll leaned weepingly against her husband, but he put her from him gently.

”Now, Amy, dearest,” said he, ”I am going to find Eddy and bring him home, and--you say Marie has gone to hunt for him?”

”Yes, she went in one direction, and Ina and Charlotte in others,”

said Anna Carroll.

”Well,” said Carroll, ”I will send Marie home at once, and I wish you would see that she prepares an early dinner, and then we can go for a drive afterwards.”

”Eddy can go, too,” said Mrs. Carroll, quite joyously.

”No, Amy,” said Carroll, ”he will most certainly not go to drive with us. There are times when you girls must leave the boy to me, and this is one of them.” He stopped and kissed his wife's appealing face, and went out. Then the carriage rolled swiftly round the curve of drive.

”He will whip him,” said Anna to Mrs. Carroll, who looked at her with a certain defiance.

”Well,” said she, ”if he does, I suppose it will be for his good. A man, of course, knows how to manage a boy better than a woman, because he has been a boy himself. You know you and I never were boys, Anna.”

”I know that, Amy,” said Anna, quite seriously, ”and I am willing to admit that a man may know better how to deal with a boy than a woman does, but I must confess that when I think of Arthur punis.h.i.+ng Eddy for the faults he may have--”

”May have what?” demanded Mrs. Carroll, quite sharply for her.

”May have inherited from Arthur,” declared Anna, boldly, with soft eyes of challenge upon her sister-in-law.

”Eddy has no faults worth mentioning,” responded Mrs. Carroll, seeming to enlarge with a sort of fluffy fury like an angry bird; ”and the idea of your saying he inherits them from his father. You know as well as I do, Anna, what Arthur is.”

”I knew Arthur before you ever did,” said Anna, apologetically.

”Don't get excited, dear.”