The conversation was very gay and kindly, but, under cover of its universality, Carolina managed to seat herself next to Flower La Grange, whose pale cheeks and frightened eyes proclaimed how much of a stranger she was to such scenes. When Carolina called her "Cousin Flower," the flush on her face and the look of passionate gratitude in her eyes gave Carolina ample evidence that any kindness she might choose to bestow here would be appreciated beyond reason.
At first Flower was constrained and answered in monosyllables, but when Carolina adroitly mentioned the baby, Flower’s whole manner thawed, and, in her eagerness, she poured forth a stream of rapturous talk which caused the others to look at her in a chilling surprise. But Flower’s back was toward her haughty relatives, and only Carolina caught the glances,--Carolina, who calmly ignored them.
"You must come to see my baby!" cried Flower, impulsively. "He is so dear! And so smart! You can’t imagine how hard it is to keep him asleep. He hears every sound and wants to be up all the time."
"I suppose he notices everything, doesn’t he?"
"No-o, I can’t say that he does. He likes things that make a noise. He doesn’t care much for looks. If you hold a rattle right up before his eyes, he won’t pay any attention to it. But, if you shake it, he smiles and coos and reaches out for it. Oh, he is a regular boy for noise!"
As Flower said this upon a moment of comparative silence, Carolina noticed that Aunt Angie grew rather pale and said:
"I haven’t seen your baby for several months, Flower. May I come to see him to-morrow?"
"Oh, I should be so glad if you would, Mrs.--"
"Call me mother, child," said the older woman, looking compassionately at her daughter-in-law.
Flower flushed as delicately as a wild rose, and looked at Carolina, as if wondering if she had noticed this sudden access of cordiality. But to Carolina, a stranger, it seemed perfectly natural, and she rather hurriedly resumed her conversation with Flower, because she had the uneasy consciousness that Miss Sue and Aunt Angie, on the other side of the room, were talking about her. Fragments of their conversation floated over to her in the pauses of her talk with Flower.
"She thinks nothing of sending off ten or a dozen telegrams a day--"