Mr. Joseph Stagg, going down to his store, past the home and carpenter
shop of Jedidiah Parlow, at which he did not even look, finally came to
his destination in a very brown study. So disturbed had he been by the
arrival of his little niece that he forgot to question and
cross-question young Chetwood Gormley regarding the possible customers
that had been in the store during his absence.
"And I tell you what I think, mother," Chet said, with his mouth full,
at supper that evening. "I think her coming's goin' to bring about
changes. Yes, ma'am!"
Mrs. Gormley was a faded little woman--a widow--who went out sewing for
better-to-do people in Sunrise Cove. She naturally thought her boy
Chetwood a great deal smarter than other people thought him. And--as was
natural, too--Chet developed something like keenness in the sunshine of
her approval.
"You know, mother," he said, on this evening of the arrival of Carolyn
May, "I never _have_ seen any great chance to rise, workin' for Mr.
Joseph Stagg. His ain't a business that offers an aspirin' feller much
advancement."
"But he _pays_ you, Chet," his mother said anxiously.
"Yep. I know. Don't be afraid I'll leave him till I see something
better," he reassured her. "But I might be clerkin' for him till the
cows come home and never see more'n six or eight dollars a week. But now
it's apt to be different."
"How different, Chet?" she asked, puzzled.
"You know Mr. Stagg's as hard as nails--as hard as the goods he sells,"
declared the gawky boy. "No brass hinge, or iron bolt, or copper rivet
in his stock is any harder than he 'pears to be. Mind you, he don't do
nothin' mean. That ain't his way. But he don't seem to have a mite of
interest in anything but his shop. Now, it seems to me, this little
niece is bound to wake him up. He calls her 'Hannah's Car'lyn.'"
"Hannah Stagg was his only sister," said Mrs. Gormley softly. "I
remember her."
"And she's just died, or something, and left this little girl," Chet
continued. "Mr. Stagg's bound to think of something now besides
business. And mebbe he'll need _me_ more. And I'll get a chance to show
him I'm worth something to him. So, by-and-by, he'll put me forward in
the business," said the boy, his homely face glowing. "Who knows? Mebbe
it'll be Stagg & Gormley over the door one of these days. Stranger
things have happened."
"Wouldn't that be fine, Chet!" agreed his mother, taking fire at last
from his enthusiasm. "And you think this pretty little girl's comin'
here is goin' to do all that?"
Perhaps even Chetwood's assurance would have been quenched had he just
then known the thoughts in the hardware merchant's mind. Mr. Stagg sat
in his back office poring over the letter written by his
brother-in-law's lawyer friend, a part of which read:
"From the above recital of facts you will plainly see, being a man of
business yourself, that Mr. Cameron's financial affairs were in a much
worse condition when he went away than he himself dreamed of.
"I immediately looked up the Stonebridge Building and Loan Association.
It is even more moribund than the papers state. The fifteen hundred
dollars Mr. Cameron put into it from time to time might just as well
have been dropped into the sea.
"You know, he had only his salary on _The Morning Beacon_. They were
rather decent to him, when they saw his health breaking down, to offer
him the chance of going to the Mediterranean as correspondent. He was to
furnish articles on 'The Débris of a World War'--stories of the peaceful
sections of Europe which have to care for the human wrecks from the
battlefields.
"It rather cramped Mr. Cameron's immediate resources for your sister to
go with him, and he drew ahead on his expense and salary account. I know
that Mrs. Cameron feared to allow him to go alone across the ocean. He
was really in a bad way; but she proposed to come back immediately on
the _Dunraven_ if he improved on the voyage across.
"Their means really did not allow of their taking the child; the
steamship company would not hear of a half-fare for her. She is a nice
little girl, and my wife would have been glad to keep her longer, but in
the end she would have to go to you, as, I understand, there are no
other relatives.
"Of course, the flat is here, and the furniture. If you do not care to
come on to attend to the matter yourself, I will do the best I can to
dispose of either or both. Mr. Cameron had paid a year's rent in
advance--rather an unwise thing, I thought--and the term has still ten
months to run. He did it so that his wife, on her return from abroad,
might have no worry on her mind. Perhaps the flat might be sublet,
furnished, to advantage. You might state your pleasure regarding this.
"You will see, by the copy of your brother-in-law's will that I enclose,
that you have been left in full and sole possession and guardianship of
his property and affairs, including Carolyn May."
* * * * *
And if somebody had shipped him a crocodile from the Nile, Joseph Stagg
would have felt little more at a loss as to what disposal to make of the
creature than he felt now regarding his little niece.
"Well--she'll be a nuisance; an awful nuisance," was his final comment,
with a mountainous sigh.
Thus far, Aunty Rose Kennedy's attitude towards the little stranger had
been the single pleasant disappointment Mr. Stagg had experienced. Aunty
Rose was an autocrat. Joseph Stagg had never been so comfortable in his
life as since Mrs. Kennedy had taken up the management of his home. But
he stood in great awe of her.
He put the lawyer's letter in the safe. For once he was unable to
respond to a written communication promptly. Although he wore that band
of crêpe on his arm, he could not actually realise the fact that his
sister Hannah was dead.
Any time these fifteen years he might have run down to New York to see
her. First, she had worked in the newspaper office as a stenographer.
Then she had married John Lewis Cameron, and they had gone immediately
to housekeeping.
Cameron was a busy man; he held a "desk job" on the paper. Vacations had
been hard to get. And, before long, Hannah had written about her
baby--"Hannah's Car'lyn."
After the little one's arrival there seemed less chance than before for
the city family to get up to Sunrise Cove. But at any time he might have
gone to them. If Joseph Stagg had shut up his store for a week and gone
to New York, it would not have brought the world to an end.
Nor was it because he was stingy that he had not done this. No, he was
no miser. But he was fairly buried in his business. And there was no
"look up" in that dim little office in the back of the hardware store.
His nose was in the big ledger all the time, and there was no better or
brighter outlook for him.
Business. No other interest, social or spiritual, had Joseph Stagg. To
his mind, time was wasted, used in any but the three very necessary
ways--eating, sleeping, and attending to one's business.
He kept his store open every evening. Not because there was trade enough
to warrant it--that was only on Saturday nights--but what would he do if
he did not come down after supper and sit in his office for a couple of
hours? There he could always find work to do. Outside, he was at a loss
for something with which to occupy his mind.
On this evening he closed the store later than usual, and set out for
The Corners slowly. To tell the truth, Mr. Stagg rather shrank from
arriving home. The strangeness of having a child in the house disturbed
his tranquillity.
The kitchen only was lighted when he approached; therefore, he was
reassured. He knew Hannah's Car'lyn must have been put to bed long
since.
It was dark under the trees, and only long familiarity with the walk
enabled him to reach the back porch noiselessly. Then it was that
something scrambled up in the dark, and the roar of a dog's barking made
Joseph Stagg leap back in fright.
"Drat that mongrel!" he ejaculated, remembering Prince.
The kitchen door opened, revealing Aunty Rose's ample figure. Prince
whined sheepishly and dropped his abbreviated tail, going to lie down
again at the extreme end of his leash, and blinking his eyes at Mr.
Stagg.
"The critter's as savage as a bear!" grumbled the hardware merchant.
"He is a good watchdog; you must allow that, Joseph Stagg," Aunty Rose
said calmly.
The hardware dealer gasped again. It would be hard to say which had
startled him the most--the dog or Aunty Rose's manner.