The Caldwell watchman. (Columbia, La.) 1885-1946, 1913-05-30

young woman she began severe
ly, 4 suppose you have no oDJectioh
to being taken away in police amou'
lancer
q looked up with fright on my
face.
Arrested? asked, as piteously as
l could.
'No-no,' she said in staccato
tones, not arrested. said notnins
about you being arrested. But you
must realize that you cannot stay mere
| have no place for you. know noun
ing about you. Ny woman has aone
everything for you that you could eA'
pect and so l am going to call the
police ambulance or something OF the
kind to take you away
"'Tears were not hard for me right
then. Weakness had Slapped me. hun
ger had ridden me, and weeping was
not hard task. | allowed my head
to fall back on the pillow and the soDs
shook my body. Mrs. Edwards folded
her hands and regarded me.
"'Well-' she said slowly, we'll
well-well. You must have been haV'
ing very hard time. I'm sorry. Can't
be helped, however. Can't be helped.
I'll call the ambulance q
"She started out Of the room. ]
called to her and asked her to stop.
"'Please,' I begged, don't do that.
I'll be in their hands soon enough, ]
guess. But as long as can keep 60
ing, want to do it. Something VIII
turn up to help me along. You have
already helped me lot. Just let
me rest here awhile-won't you? And
then I'll take baby and 60 on again.
"She paused and considered. Then
she seated herself in a chair near me,
gazed at me studiously with those
hard, cold eyes of hers and asked:
"'Young woman, how did you hap
pen to get into a fix like this?'
ut was the chance that l had been
waiting for. l raised myself weakly
and looked at her.
"'My mother sent me here ! an
swered.
"'Your mother?'
My mother. Or rather smiled
family, my foster mother. l was
taken to home when I was a child.
never knew who my real parents
were. | never was told. Inever knew
the touch OF a real mothers lips.
never knew what it was to feel that
unbounded love which real mother
could give. was just little outcast
into the world-and l was taken to a
home -
Il stopped speaking moment to
see whether or not that first shot had
had any effect on the woman. Her
face was as hard and cold as ever.
81 don't quite understand, she said
at last. Go on
| II knew that hard task was before
me. If was to touch this heart, T.
would have to employ every bit of the
| atrical art that was in my nature. 1 /
summoned tears as began again. ]
| AS told you,s 4 was justs
founding, left On doorstep by so1t6
woman whose face I cannot remeIp-
Der, whose face shall never see again.
| was taken into the home of middle
aged couple in New York city. They
cared for me, the father seemed to
love me with kindness that was 81.
preme. He would fondle me, he would
take me into his arms, he would walk
with me and play with me in the
afternoons, he would tell me stories by
the light Of the fire at night. But
stretch out my arms as would, plead
| as / might, never was there a glance
of love, never a look Of kindness from
the wife. And how a child longs for
the fondling of good woman! How q
child misses it! How the whole being
Of the little heart cries out for what 1t
Graves and cannot have! Many was
the times that l would go to that
woman with tears in my eyes and beg
to be taken up into her lap. The an.
| swer would usually be a sheer, a shove
away
Il paused again. The woman was
looking at me rather queerly. won
dered whether she had guessed the OBJ
ject of my story. l endeavored to read
her FACET was impossible Of inter-
probation. l began again.
"'And so the years went on. AS !
grew up, my foster father gave me ev-
cry luxury, he saw that l was well
schooled, that I was we'll dressed and
we'll cared for AS far as money went,
there was nothing I could ask for and
be denied. AS far as he was con.
cerned with love, there was nothing
that could be desired more. But still
| the mother continued with me, hard,
cold, relentless in her evident desire
to make the world miserable for me.
What on earth she had ever consented
to taking me in for, I never could see.
Certainly she never showed any hui
man affection
II lowered my voice.
"'There came the time / continued,
when my foster father became i'll for
the last time. He called me to him
one night, he pressed my hand In his
poor, tired, pale one. His lips moved.
He was trying to tell me something. l
L la IL L. Ia hiQ