CHAPTER TEN

CAROL’S CHOICE

When the three children entered the big living-room of the old log cabin, Ken was the first to notice that Dixie had been crying.

“I knew it, I just knew it!” the boy blurted out. “You’re sick or something, Dix. That’s why you looked so pale, and why you didn’t want to go for a walk like you always do Sunday afternoons.”

“No, Ken, it isn’t that,” the oldest girl said. “Get your hats off and come and sit here a while. I want to tell you all something.”

Dixie lifted little Jimmy-Boy and held him crushingly close. Then she hid her face among his thick yellow curls, that Ken might not see the rush of tears to her eyes, for she had suddenly thought, “The next thing I know, somebody will offer to take my baby away from me, but, oh, they can’t have him, not if I work my fingers to the bone to keep him!”

Luckily Ken remembered that the pig, three hens, the goat, and Pegasus must be fed before dark, and, as it was dusk, he hastened to the barnyard. Carol had climbed to the loft bedroom to put away her one treasure, a hat with a pretty flower-wreath on it, and so Dixie had time to dry the telltale tears before they returned.

“Fire ahead, Dix,” was Ken’s boyish way of announcing that he was ready to listen. He whirled a straight-backed chair about and straddled it as he spoke.

Dixie had not planned what she should say. She left it to the inspiration of the moment. What she said was: “Mr. Clayburn has been over while you-all have been away, and he said his wife would like to have Carol go to Genoa and live with them and be a sister to their Sylvia.”

If Dixie had hoped that Carol would say that she would far rather live in the log cabin with them, she was doomed to disappointment, for Carol’s pretty face glowed joyfully, and, clapping her hands, she cried: “Oh, Dix, how wonderful that will be! Just think of the pretty clothes I’ll have. That old ruffly dress of Jessica Archer’s will look like poor folks by the side of the dresses I will wear. Why, Sylvia Clayburn had on a pink-silk dress at the fair. I’d be the happiest girl on earth, Dix, if I could have a silk dress and have Jessica Archer see me wearing it.”

Ken had not spoken, but he was watching both of his sisters very closely, and the slow anger of Pine Tree Martin was mounting in his heart.

Suddenly he blurted, “Let her go, Dix, and be glad to get rid of her, if that’s all the thanks she’s got to give, after the scrimping and going-without you’ve done to buy her things.”

“Don’t, Ken, dear,” Dixie cried. “Carol’s not as old as we are, and—she’s different.”

“I should hope I _am_ different,” the younger girl replied, tossing her curls. “I am a Haddington-Allen through and through, my mother often told me so, and you two are—are—”

“Don’t you dare say it!” Ken warned, and Carol, after a quick glance at her brother, thought best not to complete her sentence.

The boy had whirled the chair away and was standing. Looking steadily at the now shrinking younger girl, he declared, “Dix and I are proud, proud, _proud_, that we are children of our father.” Then there was a break in his voice that made even Carol ashamed of herself.

“Oh, I don’t see why we need be mad about it,” she said in a wheedling voice, “and I should think you two would be glad to have me living where I could have nice things and won’t have to dust and—”

Again Ken blurted out with, “Yes, you’re quite willing Dix should go on doing all the work and bearing all the burden. We’ll be well rid of you, I say, and the sooner the better.” At that the boy turned and left the house, closing the door with a bang.

The next day Dixie sent word to Mr. Clayburn, and the following Sunday noon, true to his promise, the banker reappeared.

Carol wore her best clothes and had nothing to carry. When it came to the moment of saying good-by, Dixie, to outward appearances her own cheerful self, kissed her little sister tenderly, and Ken said, “So long,” not knowing whether he was glad or sorry. Then Carol stooped to kiss little Jimmy-Boy, who suddenly threw his arms about her neck and held her close. “Jimmy loves Carol,” he prattled, as he put his dewy mouth up to be kissed.

For one brief moment the little girl hesitated, then, unfastening the clinging baby arms, she ran and climbed into the waiting buggy and sat beside Mr. Clayburn. Then she smiled and waved. Little Jimmy, not in the least understanding what was happening, began to sob and reached out his chubby arms.

Dixie caught him up and held him as she waved his small hand at the disappearing wagon. Then, with a sigh, the little mother turned back into the log cabin, feeling very much as though there had been a death in the family.

To the very last she had hoped that Carol loved them all too much really to leave them; but Ken was calling to her, and so, holding fast to Baby Jim’s hand, she went out to the barnyard to see what he wanted.