A Prologue To Love Read Online Free Page B

unknown to anyone else. He was naturally friendly. In spite of the poverty of his family, he felt no inferiority. He was without fear, for he was strong. He was also gentle in his heart and curious about all things. Caroline’s hands stopped clutching at her shawl. She basked in the memory of what this boy had told her. She lifted her head as if she were a beauty, and for the first time in her short life there was a curious lilting and warmth in her chest.
     
    “My mama was very pretty,” she said. “Aunt Cynthia’s got her picture. It was painted by a great artist. In New York.”
     
    “You must look like her,” said Tom with large kindness. Caroline shook her head and pulled down her whipping braids. “No, I don’t look like Mama at all. She’s dead.”
     
    “You must look like your old man, then,” said Tom.
     
    “Oh no,” said Caroline, as if this were an insult. “My papa’s very handsome. He’s tall and has blue eyes and curly brown hair and dresses very stylish. He buys all his clothes in New York. And he isn’t old. You mustn’t say that.”
     
    “Never saw him,” said Tom, eyeing her shrewdly.
     
    “He’s been away all summer, in Europe,” said Caroline. “He’s on business.”
     
    “He sure is rich, they say.”
     
    Caroline reflected on that. But it was a matter of indifference to her. She was not quite sure what it meant to be rich, or poor. “I don’t know,” she said.
     
    “You don’t know! Why, that’s funny,” said Tom. “Now, I know we’re poor. Sure know we’re poor! My dad does odd jobs around for the folks in the summer colony.” He examined the Ames house and the grounds with a critical eye. “Your pa could use my dad, but then the folks in the village say your pa is as tight as his skin. Tighter. Never spends a cent. He don’t even have a carriage.”
     
    “We don’t need one,” said Caroline. “Not here, anyway. But we’ve got a carriage in Lyndon. Old Jim drives it. Papa always says we’ve got to be careful.”
     
    “Bet you never have any fun,” said Tom suddenly. “You kind of look that way.”
     
    Caroline became confused at all these remarks. What did ‘fun’ mean?
     
    “Bet you never play with any other girls,” Tom continued.
     
    “Well, no,” said Caroline uncertainly. “Papa doesn’t like strangers in the house. He doesn’t want me to get diseases, either. I have to come right home from Public School Number 10. That’s eight streets from where we live in Lyndon.”
     
    “And you don’t play with the girls at school?” said Tom.
     
    “They don’t like me,” said Caroline, as if this were perfectly normal.
     
    “Why not? You look like a nice girl.”
     
    “I don’t know why. They don’t even speak to me. Only the teachers talk to me. I like Miss Crowley the best. She bought me a blue ribbon for Christmas last year. It was awful pretty.” Caroline looked at Tom. He was no longer smiling. “Hell,” he muttered, and kicked a stone viciously.
     
    Then he turned to Caroline again. “Your pa’s rich, and you go to a public school,” he said, as if accusing her. “The summer people who come here send their girls to private schools, and I’ll bet they don’t have half the money your pa has!”
     
    Caroline was confused again.
     
    “And they’ve got servants, too,” went on Tom wrathfully.
     
    “So do we,” said Caroline eagerly, wishing to please him. “We’ve got old Kate, who was my mother’s nurse, and she’s our housekeeper, and we’ve got Beth, who’s awful nice, and she helps Kate and takes care of me.”
     
    “Your clothes are terrible,” said Tom. “Like they come off a Salvation Army line, like mine. Why don’t your pa buy you some pretty dresses like other girls have, and a fur muff? Bet you look worse than even the girls in your public school.”
     
    “I guess we aren’t rich after all,” said Caroline with distress. Being rich suddenly seemed very desirable to her. “We have