The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1921-11-10
WhenA Girl
 Marries
CHAPTER CDvIII.
By ANN LESLIE.

CHAPTER CDVIH. At sight of Father Andrew emerg- ing from the gate I darted forward. moment later his strong arms were about me and his dear voice was mur- muring close to my ear:
 Anne! My little girl! My blessed little Anne!"
 I chung to the man who has always given me a. fathers love- l dreaded the moment when I must turn from him to the-Inan who had deserted my little mother and who had now come back to claim me as his daughter. All my childish memories of suffering and neglect revived and built up to a climax of hatred for the gambler I'd been able to pity when I thought of him as killed in a train wreck. but scorn and 1oathing now. I realized that he had made my mother suffer. She might have gone on to the end fighting her uneaually matched battle with poverty, and loneliness if Father Andrew hadn't come into her life. And all the while my father, Lucky Lee, had been going his own selfish, wicked k,it sh gan, waitiing iting to bounce on me when his coming robbed me most.
 As if he read my rebeIlious thoughts, the circle of his arms and whispered:
 Steady, little girl. steady! was bitter, too, for awhile. But this is l the man who loved my Martha when she was a slip of a lass; and she loved him once. We have to be gentle for her sake"
 | Then, lifting his head and raising
 "Babbsie. I've brought your father back to you.'
 I turned to offer what greeting I could to the stopped little man, whose | thin face was working with emotion. I " tta hn hI1f words repelled me even more than the thin. qUerulous voice in which he rasped out:
 "Babbsie? Who gave you right to call my girl that 2 Her name is Anne, ain't it?'
 These were the first words of greet ing from the father hadn't seen since was tiny girl. And my reply was equally strange. Holding out my gloved hand I asked stiffly:
 Did you have a pleasant jour- ney?" father, wagging his head at me. and then adding. accusingly, But I got hungry The meals on the trains ain't only the sandwches we. could buy at depots. My clothes is line, though. I look purty stylish, don't F"
 You look very well" I replied automatically, trying to keep hysteria out of my voice.
 I didn't know what to call this father so cruelty returned to dispute the fatherhood of love which Father the slightest idea whether he looked well or III. And search my memory as might, I couldn't call up even one childish image of this unwelcome
 How about bagsage?'' asked, briskly, my hand still c1utching the steady strength of Father Andrews. We'd better see to that .. 11er 0nL LI-@@ v said Father Andrew. This porter's taking care of 1t. He'll carry it right to the express people and they can deliver it to our hotel.' Your hotel" I began, on the verge of protest. But I caught myself just in time. I couldn't take my other father to the home where Jim and I had been so happy. Nor would I risk shrewd, searching eyes, now that the place had been closed and all that once made 1t home slowed away. So finished my sentence this way: "Ive Tony's car for the day. 'We'n drive by your hotel and drop your bags there.''
 "where do we meet Neal2" asked Father Andrew, with a look which very we'll understood. Maybe you've fixed it for me to see him at his place while you and your dad-Dad Lee, surmised you'd like to say-while you l two visit.
 "In the swell car she's got2" asked Dad Lee eagerly. Must have purty rich friends to be handing out cars like this.''
 My girl has good friends" said Father Andrew pleasantly and with out seeming to realize that he was laying full claim to ''his girl" Let's be starting, Babbsie. I'm kinda hankering for @ sight of Neal" Meals not in town, Father An drew" I explained. He was called away on a business trip last night just 1 before your telegram came.'' 'So I don't get to see my boy for | awhile,'' said Father Andrew in a | tone which seemed actually relieved. But we won't let you get lone | some," I interposed quickly. only too glad to be saved from tete-a-tete | with Dad Lee. Now we'd better run I along to the car. So tell your porter \ to follow in our wake, won't you please, Father Andrew, dear?" Then, as Father Andrew gave his order and the porter picked up his l bags and followed us, I noticed some | thing. which seemed a certain proof i of Father Andrews unfailing kind I ness. One of the suitcases was brand l new. So were the clothes Dad Lee was wearing could guess whose | thoughtfulness had protected me from | having @ shabby old father-the un- successful prodigaI-descend upon me.
 MT. Fox yesterday te1egraphed his | representa- tives here asking that they