The Aberdeen weekly. [volume] (Aberdeen, Miss.) 1878-1933, 1918-11-29

ly. Uncle Mark. They haven't promot
ed you for years, and they have
jumped all sorts of officers over your
head. Major Howard was saying sc
only before he left for Alaska. But, OF
course, he's out Of favor, and he
wouldn't nave any influence. anyway
It's years since he was in the army"
Il suppose I'm a back number, my
dear. Some of US have to be. Per
haps III get my chance. I'm not thir
" yet, you know, and thirty isn't con
sidered awfully old in the army. Al
least, it isn't the retiring age"
Don't be so absurd, Uncle Mark
You don't look an old man at all. II
was just that your photograph was
taken so long ago, and [ didn't reflect
that you must have changed"
"And if ever another war comes Tn
sure my experience will count for q
lot. And I'll probably have command
over Captain Murray and Captain
Crawford If ever the National Guard
is called on for serious work. And
then you'll have your function as our
mascot. you know"
He was surprised at the girls sud,
den responsiveness to his words. She
grew very serious.
1--WE often thought about that. Un-
Gle Mark" she answered.
But, of course, it may never hap
pen"
II suppose not. But If ever 1t does
/ mean to try to be what you meant
me to be when you made that condi-
ton to the major. How 1 wish-how
L wish"
Yes. my dear?"
THAT we knew who my father was.
Sometimes I think he was only an
American planter, perhaps, who lived
In Cuba and was forced to flee when
the war began. And then again l
dream that he may have been a brave
soldier who was trying to serve his
country by going into the Spanish
lines In disguise, and I hope thai
may be worthy of him."
You don't remember anything,
Eleanor"
Yes, Uncle Mark. I'm sure l do
and yet I've thought so much about it
that I'm not sure how much of it is
memory n how much is just child's
inventions. Perhaps / invented all of
it, and made myself believe 1 remem-
bered it. And yet 1 am sure part of it
is memory"
What do o remember?" asked
Mark rather ~fearfuIly.
well, Uncle Mark, my first connect
ed memories are of Major Towards
home, of urse And L have a very
vivid impression of being brought into
the dining room and toasted at that
dinner which the Major gave to the
officers after the But before all
hat I seem to have memories, as If
they were pictures"
What is the first thing you remem-
ber?'
II see a woman lying in a bed in a
any face 1 have known q man sits be
side her, with his head in his hand.
and, though death has no meaning for
me, / am afraid. for L know that she
vas my mother"
WAS this in Cuba, Eleanor"
81 don't know, but l think so, Uncle
Mark. because 1 remember running to
the window and seeing q great palm
tree outside. with spreading branches.
n there are other cities, and we
seem to go from place to place, always
watching for somebody, and yet, as 1t
WERE. hiding from people. I know we
that tells me SO.
And again / am with my father in
the jungle. 1 ont know how we got
there, but I see the trees all around
me. and 1 am afraid. We walk on and
on, and sometimes he carries me, and
we sleep under the trees and are
drenched with rain. 1 am so tired and
thirsty. But we go on and on. and
when We stop We find a little hut, and
I am afraid no longer"
"And Them" asked Mark In agfta-
tion.
Il remember nothing. / suppose the
bullet that killed my father must have
struck him while he was in the hut,
but I have no picture in my mind at
ALL"
Mark mumhled something to con
ceal his agitation. And do you re-
member me coming and picking you
up?" he asked.
She shook her head regretfully. 81
don't remember anything else" she
answered. Nothing until that dinner
in the majors house."
She linked her arm through his and
looked at him earnestly. Uncle
Mark, it makes me unhappy some
times to think that I have no memory,
no clear memory of my parents. I am
sure that some day all this mystery
will be cleared up Don't you hope
so?"
YES" answered Mark, miserably.
BE had always wondered what the
child would ho Hike HouaHd,a hale