Mrs. Anderson stooped over her and laid her soft old cheek against the soft young one.  “My precious child!” she whispered.  “I could not help seeing last night, and this was just the place for you to come, for this is your home, or is going to be; isn’t it, dear?”

Charlotte put up her soft little arms around the other woman’s neck, and began to cry softly.  “Oh,” she sobbed, “I don’t want him to think that I—­”

“Hush, dear!  He will think nothing he ought not to think,” said Mrs. Anderson, who did not, in reality, know in the least what the girl was troubled about, but rather thought it possible that she might fear lest her son was not in earnest in his attentions, on her father’s account.  She did not imagine Charlotte’s faith and pride in her father.  “My son cares a great deal for you, dear child, or he would never have done as he did last night,” she said, “and some day we are all going to be very happy.”

Charlotte continued to sob softly, but not altogether unhappily.

“My son will make a very good husband,” Mrs. Anderson said, with a slight inflection of pride.  “He will make a good husband, just as his father did.”

“He is the best man I ever saw, except papa,” cried Charlotte then, with a great gulp of blissful confession, and the two women wept in each other’s arms.  “I will try and make him a good wife,” Charlotte whispered, softly.

“Of course you will, you precious child.”

But suddenly Charlotte raised herself a little and looked at Mrs. Anderson with a troubled face.  “But I can’t leave papa all alone,” she said, “and your son would not want to leave you.”

“Of course my son could not leave me,” Mrs. Anderson said, quickly.

“I could not leave papa all alone.”

“Well, we won’t worry about that now, dear,” Mrs. Anderson replied, although her forehead was slightly knitted.  “Your mother and aunt will be back; some way will be opened.  We will not worry about that now.”

Charlotte blushed painfully at the thought that she had been hasty about making preparations for the marriage, and had shocked Mrs. Anderson.  “You don’t think papa is very badly hurt?” she said.

“Why, of course not, dear.  Didn’t you hear what Randolph said?  He probably was stunned.  It is so easy to get stunned from a fall on the ice.  My husband got a bad fall once, one icy Sunday as we were coming home from the church.  They had to carry him into Mr. John Bemis’s house, and he did not come to for several hours.  I thought he was killed.  I never was so frightened except once when Randolph had the croup.  But he got all over it.  His head was a little sore, but that was all.  I presume it was black and blue under his hair.  Randolph’s father had beautiful thick hair just like his.  I dare say he was not hurt so badly, because of that.  Your father has thick hair, hasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I dare say he struck on his head, just as my husband did, and was stunned.  I dare say that was just what happened.  Of course he did not break any bones, or he would not be coming home on the noon train.  I don’t believe they would let him out from the hospital so soon as that, even if he had only broken his arm.”