Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1908-07-18

me always LOlu me what dulI anu
that Il depended on me what got
to be, because heredity needn't count.
Most folks don't know 1t, and, II
they do, they can't surprise me. You
see Marcella didn't know, and she
didn't like being surprised"
Mr.. Lord looked searchingly at
the lad, and then out OF the window.
Turning, he laid his arm on the
boys shoulder, saying: Don't speak
of this. trust you. Come here
tomorrow"
81 beg your pardon, sir. was
hot-headed." And, taking up his
cap, he left the office. In vain did
Mr.. Lord try to balance his accounts.
Across them ran the great mistake
he and his wife had made. Hal was
right. Marcella ought to know, hard
as It would be now to tell her.
Years ago he and his wife, in their
childless loneliness, had adopted the
child. His logic had wanted her
early to know the truth; but his
wife's selfish craving for childish
affection had kept them silent, lest
Marcella might not love them as
much, II she knew she were not their
own daughter Now the Nemesis
had come through the girls suffer-
ing, and Mr.. Lord insisted that she
should be told.
"Tell her then yourself" yielded
his wife, at last. ut will be the
saddest day of her life"
ut will be the beginning of the
best years of her life. One can't go
on living lie," he replied
He went upstairs.to find the child
curled up in the broad window-seat,
looking at the moon. He drew her
towards him; for he loved her more,
II possible, than did his wife, and
understood her far better. Papa"
she asked before he spoke, lam an
adopted?"
He held her close with kisses on
forehead, eyes and lips as he an
swered, YES" The silence seemed
long and cruel to them both. She
shrank in his embrace as II she were
H. pain, but he would not let her go.
When quoted by his tenderness, ne
told her how her own parents had
died, and how he and his wife had
taken her from the hospital to be
their own blessed little girl, and that
there had never been a day since she
came to them that they had not re-
Ioiced she was theirs.
want
get rid of me, when they poke fun at
me at SCHOOL," she questioned.
Never" he answered; "but why
didn't you tell me they did so?'
Because, first, thought they did
1t just to tease me; and, when l did
try to ask, you and mamma gave me
candy. / threw it away, though, just
as soon as | got upstairs, Then
heard mamma call me poor child
Mr.. Lord shuddered as she spoke
land you said you were afraid
heredity counted. / looked up the
word in the dictionary; but, when the
teacher talked to me about inheri-
.tances, just pretended she meant
money. l wouldn't let her know
saw through her. o papa, I'm the
miserablest little girl ever was adopt
ed. | don't belong nowhere. l don't
see why 1 got born" And the child
sobbed as If her heart would break.
Very tenderly and slowly, so she
could understand each word, her
father explained to her that she was
truly their child, and that heredity
needn't count, IL it held aught else
than final good for her.
The girl listened, at first stupidity,
then comprehendingly. Papa, If I
can begin tomorrow and not go to
that horrid school any more, perhaps
heredity needn't count-that's what
you said. Perhaps needn't get mad
so often. Please don't give me any
more candy, not for whole year;
and I'll try to get ahead on heredity,
If I've got it bad.
"You haven't. We three, you,
mamma and l, will try together for
year. so that trying will make
nice little Inheritance to hand over
to next year"
THAT will be fun, she exclaimed,
clapping her hands, forgetful of her
sorrow for the next hour But 1t re-
turned to her as she woke in the
night, until she made up her mind to
begin at once, on the inheritance, and
so fell asleep.
The next afternoon Hal went to
Mr.. Lords office. What the two
said to each other was never known
till years after, when Hal asked Mar
celia to be his wife.
1T isn't heredity, so much as love
in the home and willlower in ones
self that counts for good" said Mr..
Lord to his wife, as Marcella and
Hal drove off on their wedding jour-
ney.-The Boston Cooking-school
Magazine.