“Well, I do worry,” said Ina.  “I cannot help it.  It was too much for poor papa to do.”  She even shed a few tears over the pearl, and Charlotte kissed and coddled her a good deal for comfort.

“It is such a beauty, dear,” she said.  “Look at it and take comfort in it, darling.”

“Yes, it is a beauty,” sobbed Ina.  “I never saw such a pearl except that one of poor papa’s, the one he has in his scarf-pin that belonged to that friend of his who died, you know.”

“Yes, dear,” said Charlotte, “I know.  It is another just such a beauty.  Don’t cry any more, honey.  Think how happy you are to have it.”

But Charlotte herself, after she had gone to bed in her own little room, had sobbed very softly lest her sister should hear her, until Ina was asleep.  Her sister’s remarks had brought a suspicion to her own mind.  “Poor papa!” she kept whispering softly, to herself.  “Poor papa!” It seemed to her that her heart was breaking with understanding of and pity for her father.

Charlotte’s own gift to Ina had been some pieces of embroidery.  She was the only one in the family who excelled in any kind of handicraft.  “Ina will like this better than anything,” she had told her aunt Anna, “and then it will not tax poor papa, either.  It will cost nothing.”

Her aunt had looked at her a minute, then suddenly thrown her arms around her and kissed her.  “Charlotte, you little honey, you are the best of the lot!” she had said.

Charlotte herself, the night of the wedding, was looking rather pale and serious.  Many observed that she was the least good-looking of the family.  Several Banbridge young men essayed to make themselves agreeable to her, but she did not know it.  She was very busy.  Besides their one maid there were the waiters sent by the caterer, and Eddy was exceedingly troublesome.  He was a nervous boy, and unless directly under his father’s eye, almost beyond restraint when impressed, as he was then, with an exaggerated sense of his own importance.  His activities took especially the form of indiscriminate and superfluous helping the guests to refreshments, until the waiters waxed fairly murderous, and one of them even appealed to Anna Carroll, intimating in Eddy’s hearing that unless the young gentleman left matters to them the supply of salad would run short.

“Why didn’t we have more, then?” inquired Eddy, quite audibly, to the delight of all within ear-shot.  “I thought we were going to have plenty for everybody this time.”

“Eddy dear,” whispered Charlotte, taking his little arm, “come with me into the hall and help me put back some roses that have fallen out of the big vase.  I am afraid I shall get some water on my gown if I touch them, and I noticed just now that some one had brushed against them and jostled some out.”

“Charlotte, why didn’t we have salad enough?” persisted Eddy, as he followed his sister, pulling back a little at her leading hand.