Carruthers. But Aunt Sarah--"

"Never mind Aunt Sarah. Unless--do you mean your mother has had to go
away from home?"

"Yes'm, to see to Aunt Sarah. They were twins when they were babies.
Mother cried, because she said of course you'd have to be done up while
she was gone, an' so she'd lost you. She said you'd been her bacon light
ever since she heard you was comin' home an' wore so many white clo'es."

The garrulous little voice might have run on indefinitely but for the
abrupt appearance, here, of a slender girl in an all-enwrapping gingham
apron. She came hurrying up Miss Theodosia's front walk.

"Well, Evangeline Flagg, I hope you're blushing crimson scarlet
red--helping yourself to folks's doorsteps that's got back from Europe!
I hope--" but the newcomer got no further, for, quite suddenly, she
found herself blushing crimson scarlet red, in the grip of a
disconcerting thought.

"I suppose it's just as bad to help yourself to doorsteps when folks
aren't here as when they are," she said slowly, "but you mustn't blame
Mother. She'd never've allowed Evangeline and Elly, if we'd had a single
sol-i-ta-ry tree. Or been on the shady side. Or had a porch. Elly's been
pindly, and Mother felt obliged to save his life. It's been terribly
hot. Here, Evangeline Flagg, you give Elly here, an' you run home an'
keep the soup-kettle from burning on. Don't you wait until it smells!
I've got an errand to do here."

The child, Evangeline, relinquished her burden and turned slowly away.