The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1918-11-22
CHAPTER v-continued.


s.
Schoolgirls can Judge character az
well as gr0wn-ups."
"And SO you think you know me, and
and you're not altogether disappoint.
ed7" asked Mark. smiling at last.
sPm not disappointed in you at all.
IL you aren't in me. Dear Uncle Mark,
people don't really change-neveri
neverl Only they learn to adapt them
selves to their environments. You are
just the same as ever-just the quiet,
sensitive, chivalrous Uncle Mark I've
always dreamed Of" =
ssWell." said Mark, II see that there
are hopes that shall regain the little
ward whom I've always aiipHght about.
And. Of course, I ought to have re-
Aected that your environment has been
very different from the one I could
have given you"
II wish I'd been with you, Uncle
Mark" she answered impulsively.
''Why didn't you keep me when you had
your chance, If you wanted me? Oh,
dear Uncle Mark, that was so like
you, too-giving up to others. And
You never sent me that photograph u
'Tve never had one taken since, Ell
eanOr."
'But I've got you yourself now"
said the girl. $50 you mustn't give me
up any more, no matter who seems to
have better claim on me. VIII you
promise me that?"
Mark knew now for certain that he
had found his own. II promise" he
answered.
Because, you know, I've been very
happy with Colonel and Mrs. Howard.
But this isn't the best and biggest part
Of me 1t you see here. If I could
have had my way I'd rather have been
living a more useful life somewhere
somewhere where hadn't quite so
many things that I want. Colonel
Howard gives me everything he thinks
want. But-you see, Uncle Mark,
something is missing. You remember
what we talked over-about my being
the regimental mascot?"
Mark nodded, watching her face
closely.
swell, all that's over and gone.
There isn't any regiment now, any
way. All the old people have gone out
Of it. And we were three years in San
Francisco, you know. And-Oh, Uncle
Mark, wish we could have those days
again, when used to dream about my
father and-and-"
II know, my DEAR" said Mark.
'I've always secretly hoped that ]
should know, some day. But I've al
most stopped hoping, except for one
thing that I've never told anybody.
You remember what I said to you
about man watching me?"
'He doesn't watch you now, Ell
eanor!"
She nodded. "He has come back"
she answered. "He's older and grayer,
but he's the same man. I've seen him
here, in Washington. And I've never
dared to speak of it, even to Colonel
Howard, bnt / know it's not delusion,
Uncle Mark"
"And you think he has some connec-
ttOn with your father, Eleanor?" asked
Mark.
81 don't know what to think. What
do you think, Uncle Mark?" asked the
girl.
II think, my DEAR" said Mark DELHI
erately, 'that it isn't the same man.
It stands to reason it can't be. Why
should he have watched you all these
years and never spoken to you? No.
Eleanor, I think you've had this idea
so long that You have misinterpreted
Il mean"
II know what you mean, Uncle
Mark. Well, it doesn't matter. And
now I must go back to Mrs. Howard
or they will be wondering what has
become of me. But we've picked up
our memories, haven't we? And I'll
see lot of you, Uncle Mark, before
you go to the war;"