The Fargo forum and daily republican. [volume] (Fargo, N.D.) 1894-1957, 1914-07-18
NrRo0UCTloNe WE'RE A0e~ MORTON Ia: RSrEn c4AoamE0. u

the light from the hall discovered to her
the bundle on the steps. She stopped and
touched it.
GOOD heavens, it's a child!"
She picked the bundle up. A whimper came
from it, a tired little whimper of protest.
She ran back to the reception room. A found
lingI And on her doorstep! It was incred-
ible. What in the world should she do? It
would create a scandal and hurt the prestige
Of the school. Some one had mistaken her
select private school for a farmhouse. It was
frightfuL.
Then she unwrapped the child. 1t was
abont a year old, dimpled and golden haired.
A thumb was in it's rosebud mouth and its
blue eyes looked up trustfully into her own.
"Why, you cherub!" cried the old maid, a
strange turmoil in her heart. She caught the
child to her breast, and then for the first time
noticed the thick envelope pinned to the child's
cloak. She put the baby into a chair and broke
open the envelope.
Name this child Florence Gray. I will
send annually a liberal sum for her support
and reclaim her on her eighteenth birthday.
The other half of the inclosed bracelet will
identify me. Treat the girl WELL for I shall
watch over her in secret"
Into the fixed routine of her humdrum life
had come a mystery, a tantalizing, fascinating
mystery. She had read of foundIings left on
doorsteps-from paper covered novels confis-
Gated from her pu~ils-but that one should be
placed upon her own respectable doorstep!
Suddenly she smiled down at the child and
the child smiled back. And there was nothing
more to be done except to bow before the de-
crees of fate. Like all prim old maids, her
heart was full of unrequited romance, and
here was something she might spend its foods
upon without let or h~indrance. Already she
was hoping that the man or woman who had
left it might never come back.
The child grew. Regularly each year, upon
q certain date, Miss Farlow received a regis
tered letter with money. These letters came
from all parts of the world; always the same
sum, always the same line-"I am watching"
Thus seventeen years passed and to Susan
Farlow each year seemed shorter than the one
before. For she loved the child with all her
heart. She had not trained young girls all
these years without becoming adept In the art
of reading the true signs Of breeding. There
was no ordinary blood in Florence; the fact
was emphasized by her exquisite face, her
small hands and feet, her spirit and gentle
ness. And now, at any day, some one with a
broken bracelet might come for her. As the
days went on the heart Of Susan Farlow grew
heavy.
Never mind, ~aunty," said Florence; "I
shall always come back to see you"
= She meant 1t, poor child but how was she
y to know the terrors which lay yonder, beyond
the horizon?
The house Of Stanley Hargreave, in River
dale, was the house of no ordinary rich man.
Outside it was simple enough, but within you
learned what kind Of a man Hargreave was.
There were rare Ispalans and Saruks on the
floors and tapestries on the walls, with here
and there a fine painting. The library itself
represented a fortune. Money had been laid
out layishly but never wa~stefully. It was the
home Of a scholar, a dreamer, a wide traveller
In the library stood the master Of the house