She looked very sober--almost stern.
"Hadn't you better put on your other dress again, then?" asked her
mother."
"No, I guess this 'll do."
Cephas ate his pie in silence--he had helped himself to another
piece--but he heard every word. After he had finished, he fumbled in
his pocket for his old leather purse, and counted over a little store
of money on his knee.
Charlotte was setting away the dishes in the pantry when her father
came up behind her and crammed something into her hand. She started.
"What is it?" said she.
"Look and see," said Cephas.
Charlotte opened her hand, and saw a great silver dollar. "I thought
mebbe you'd like to buy somethin' with it," said Cephas. He cleared
his throat, and went out through the kitchen into the shed. Charlotte
was too amazed to thank him; her mother came into the pantry. "What
did he give you?" she whispered.
Charlotte held up the money. "Poor father," said Sarah Barnard, "he's
doin' of it to make up. He was dreadful sorry about that other, an'
he's tickled 'most to death now he thinks you've got somebody else,
and are contented. Poor father, he ain't got much money, either."
"I don't want it," Charlotte said, her steady mouth quivering
downward at the corners.
"You keep it. He'd feel all upset if you didn't. You'll find it come
handy. I know you've got a good many things now, but you had ought to
have a new cape come fall; you can't come out bride in a muslin one
when snow flies.
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