He gazed steadily into the red glow of the coals, and a strange dimness came over his vision.  A species of counter-hypnotism seemed to overcome him.  He had been in an abnormal state, superinduced by unhealthy suggestions of the imagination acting upon a mind ill at ease; now his natural state gradually asserted itself.  His mind swung slowly back to its normal poise.  When Charlotte entered, bearing a platter of beefsteak, he turned to her quite naturally.

“How did it happen, darling?” he asked.

Charlotte looked at him, and her face, which had been anxious and puzzled, lightened.  She laughed.  “I had my mind all made up, papa,” she replied, in a triumphant little voice.

“That you would come back?”

“Yes, papa.  I knew there was no use in saying I would not go.  I knew if I did, Amy would directly declare that she would not go either, and I should spoil everything.  So I decided that I would start with the rest, and come back.”

“How far did you go?”

“I went to Lancaster.  I did not mean to go so far.  I meant to get off at New Sanderson, but I could not manage it.  Amy wanted to play pinochle, and I could not get away.  But when we got to Lancaster, we stopped awhile, and Amy was having a nap, and Anna was reading, and the train made a long stop, and Eddy and I got out, and I told Eddy what I was going to do, and gave him a little note.  I had it all written before I started.  I said in the note that I was coming back, that I did not want to go to Kentucky; that I was coming back and would stay with you a little while, and then we would both go to Kentucky and join the others.  I said they were not to worry about me.”

“What did you tell Eddy?”

“I told Eddy that you could not be left alone with nobody to cook for you, and he must get on the train and not make any fuss, and tell the others, and be a good boy, and he said he would.  I saw him safely on the train.”

“How did you get here from Lancaster, child?”

“I took the trolley,” Charlotte said.  “There is a trolley from Lancaster to New Sanderson, you know, papa.”

Charlotte did not explain that the trolley from Lancaster to New Sanderson was not running, and that she had walked six miles before connecting with the trolley to Banbridge.  “I got the meat in New Sanderson,” said she.  “I got some other things, too.  You will see.  We have a beautiful supper, papa.”

Carroll looked at her, and she answered the question he was ashamed to ask.  “Aunt Catherine sent me a little money,” she said.  “She sent me twenty-five dollars in a post-office order.  She wrote me a letter and sent me the money for myself.  She said the shops were not very good down there—­you know they are not, papa—­and I might like to buy some little things for myself in New York before coming.  I said nothing about the money to Amy or the others, because I had this plan.  I even let Amy take that extra money and buy me the hat.