The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1921-09-14
When A Girl
 MUrries
By ANN LESLIE.
CHAPTER CCLIII.

l
 Gan I be sure that the man they buried was my father?" I repeated after Father Andrew ''Why it was l-surely-wasn't it ?"
 | That's what we can't prove unless you saw him, unless you're sure," said Father Andrew. Your mother thought it was. But there is man alive today who claims to be your father He says the man who was killed in the railroad wreck wasn't Lucky Lee at .all-
 sBut the cldthes,' interrupted. 'I saw them. knew them. The coat the reporter made me touch was one I'd seen my father wear" I'm afraid that proves nothing" replied the man I had thought of as my father through all the young might have given the one you saw to a pal who was in hard luck. You remember that the money he had won wasn't in his possession when they brought the body home to you" "Yes, I remember that" I murmur- ed, wondering where all this was leading us. But we thought he had | been robbed"
 me that. But you don't know that | he was robbed. You can't prove | it''
 II You mean that I can't prove it in a court of law that the body we | buried was my fathers You mean that I can't disprove the claim of anyone who chooses to say he's my | father?''
 | Father Andrew shook his head sad l ly.
 "You speak bitterly. dear" he said
 "I feel bitter." I cried 'T don't want the ghost of disreputable past rising now. I have nothing for ther. I had a starved childhood. Red plush and shameful a.ff1uence one week The hall bedrooms of cheap boarding houses the next. And my poor little mothers shame and sadness through it all. Then death released us. And soon you came. I grew to think of YOU as my father. I'm proud to think of you as my fa- | thar"
 Barbara Anne. you'll always be my little girl. no matter what hap pens- No other mans claim can make you stop being mT daughter But have you thought what may be the condition of the man who brought you into the world %
 ''Is he poor?" I gasped.
 "Yes. dear. Poor and old And he ssvs in his need he heard of you, went because he felt he was degrad- ing it. If this man actually did that much for YOU once. can you deny his claim on you now?" asked Father Andrew gently.
 If this is my father, then when he pretended to die he. deliberately left up to starve," I replied bitterly. ''He had the money he won at the
 Then the most terrible shame surged up from my heart and T cried: 'Oh. what am saying? It doesn't matter what he did. You say he's poor and old. And I have so muck. If this is my father. Jim. will help h4m. He must be taken care of. Wen do everything Perhaps ought to go to Canada with you. Pl1 do that. For you think the man in Canada is-my father, don't you % | 'Pm afraid SOL agreed Father Andrew.
 t'The telegram said so.'' I gasped.
 twill you read it, dear?" asked crumpled bit of yellow paper.
 I smoothed it with one hand and held it against the steering wheel Of tie green cove in the roadside. Then, with blurring eyes, I read:
 Np money stoclt to travel in tbn Msn xoosst mest Long to see my daughter again. As soon as strong enough will go to her. You must provide funds and look out for me. Pretty sick vet Team will meet, you Monday. Lucius Lucky
 "You wonderful mani I cried, turning back to Father Andrew ,, spare me the first edges of the shame and humiliation-until we have to be-certain.' Suddenly I broke off. The mean s ing of the terrible trouble in Father ! Andrews eye came over me with | flash. It wasn't pity for me. It | wasn't sorrow for himself, even \ though there should be some one to claim the place that had so long \ been his in fact as we'll as senti- \ ment. There was some one else to | whom all this must mean far more than it could to either of us. 'Oh. Father Andrew. forgive me!'' \ cried. Forgive me"
 I've nothing to forgive. -Barbara expected aught different. It's only ' natural that you shouldn't rejoice to think that one who shamed you
 in life as in death has perhaps come
 back from the grave: He was gone
 honest to pretend that this strange ' return can make you happy. You ! didn't try to lie to me Why should " you? say there's nothing to for |. is Nike the dear heart that's planning already to make a poor old repro bates last days happy if she find: him her kin
 I'm not asking you to forgive mt l for that, I said. I'm asking yoI Ii to forgive me because I forgot tht | one to whom this means so frightfull, ! much more than it ever can to me si Father Andrew, my hearts aching fol s reai.'
 II '1 dreaded the time when it would
 come to you," he whispered hus \ ki1y.
 That's why you made them prom
 ise not to be married until you re | turn l said You want to b, | sure- You want me to See this ma1 - who says he's my father-and t, . make Sure-'
 T want to make certain" sait T Father Andrew gently, 'that whel
 married my Martha, the sweetes