He thought, further, that, after all, he need not worry about his own pay.  Carroll had paid Marie and would pay him.  He thought comfortably of the cigars, which were sure to be good.  His original respect and admiration for his employer swelled high in his heart.  He felt quite happy driving his high-stepping horses over the good road.  The conversation of the ladies at his back, and of Carroll at his side, passed his ears, trained not to hear, as unintelligibly as the babble of the birds.  Martin had no curiosity.

While their elders were driving, the Carroll sisters and the brother were all out on the front porch.  Ina was rocking in a rattan chair, Charlotte sat on the highest step of the porch leaning against a fluted white pillar, the boy sprawled miserably on the lowest step.

“It’s awful dull,” he complained.

Charlotte looked down at him commiseratingly from her semicircle of white muslin flounces.  “I’ll play ball with you awhile, Eddy, dear,” said she.

The boy sniffed.  “Don’t want to play ball with a girl,” he replied.

Charlotte said nothing.

Eddy twitched with his face averted.  Then suddenly he looked up at his sister.  “Charlotte, I love to play ball with you,” said he, sweetly, “only, you see, I can’t pitch hard enough, your hands are so awful soft, and I feel like I could pitch awful hard to-night.”

“Well, I tell you what you may do, dear,” said Ina.

“What?”

“Go down to the post-office and get the last mail.”

Eddy started up with alacrity.  “All right,” said he.

“And you may run up-stairs to my room,” said Charlotte, “and hunt round till you find my purse, and get out ten cents and buy yourself an ice-cream.”

Eddy was up and out with a whoop.

“Are you expecting a letter, honey?” asked Charlotte of her sister.

Ina laughed evasively.  “I thought Eddy would like to go,” said she.

“Now, Ina, I know whom you are expecting a letter from; you can’t cheat me.”

Ina laughed rather foolishly; her face was pink.

Charlotte continued to regard her with a curious expression.  It was at once sad, awed, and withal confused, in sympathy with the other girl.  “Ina,” said she.

“Well, honey?”

“I think you ought to tell me, your own sister, if you are—­”

“What—­”

“Ina, I really think—­”

“Oh, hush, dear!” Ina whispered.  “Here comes Mr. Eastman.”

Young Frank Eastman, in his light summer clothes, came jauntily around the curve of the drive, his straw hat in hand, and the sisters fluttered to their feet to greet him.  Then Eddy reappeared with the dime securely clutched, and inquired anxiously of Charlotte if she cared whether he bought soda or candy with it.  Young Eastman ran after him down the walk and had a whispered conference.  When the boy returned, which was speedily, he had a letter for his sister Ina and a box of the most extravagant candy which Banbridge afforded.  The young people sat chatting and laughing and nibbling sweets until nearly ten o’clock.  Then young Eastman took his leave.