The L'Anse sentinel., 1919-01-10

you were getting" said Mark penitent-
ly. "But you can't think how glad
am to see you, anyway"
"It's shame sticking you for years
out In that horrible desert" said the
girl. II wish, Uncle Mark. you hadn't
stayed In the army after the war"
"Why. my dear?"
Because then you could have gone
into business In New York, like Cap
tain Murray and Captain Crawford"
"Tve been thinking about as much
| myself, Eleanor. But guess the army
| got hold Of me-"
"But they haven't treated you right
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 so
course, he's out Of favor. and he
wouldn't have any influence. anyway.
| It's years since he was In the army"
II suppose I'm back number, my
dear. Some OF us have to be. Per-
haps I'll get my chance. I'm not thir-
ty yet, you know. and thirty isn't con-
sidered awfully old In the army. At
least, 1t isn't the retiring age"
"Don't be so absurd, Uncle Mark
You don't look an old man at all. 1t
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 I'm
sure my experience will count for
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. 1t may never hap
PEN"
II suppose not. But If ever ii does
mean to try to be what you meant
me to be when you made that condl-
ton to the major. How wish-how
/ wish"
"Yes. my dearT
"That we knew who my father was.
Sometimes 1 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 brave
soldier who was trying to serve his
country by going into the Spanish
lines In disguise, and 1 hope that
may be worthy of him."
"You don't remember anything,
EleanorT
"Yes, Uncle Mark. I'm sure do
and yet I've thought SO much about 1t
that I'm not sure how much of 1t Is
memory and how much Is just chlld's
inventions. Perhaps invented all of
II. and made myself believe remem-
bered II. And yet i am sure part Of II
is memory"
"What do you remember?" asked
Mark rather fearfully.
"Well, Uncle Mark, my FIRST connect
ed memories are Of Major Howard's
home, of course. And I have q very
vivid impression Of being brought into
the dining room and toasted at that
dinner which the Major gave to the
officers after the war. But before all
that seem to have memories. as IL
they were pictures"
"What is the first thing you remem-
ber?"
II see woman lying In a bed In q
strange room. Her face Is whittier than
any face 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 know that she
was my mother" ~
"was this In Cuba, Eleanor
81 don't know, but think so, Uncle
Mark, beenuse remember running to
the window and seeing a great palm
tree outside, with spreading branches.
And there are other cities, and we
seem to go from place to place. always
watching for somebody, and yet as It
were, hiding from people. ] know we
avoid people. but It is an instinct only
that tells me 80. ~,
"And again am With my father In
the jungle. Irdon't know how we got
<there. but see the trees all around
me. and. I an, afraid. We walk ON and