Omaha daily bee., 1922-06-09
BY RUBY M. AYRES.
Continued from Yesterday
WHO WHO'S IN THE STORY.

WHO WHO'S IN THE STORY.
Violet InEleby, pretty but poorly
dressed English girl. Il walking along .
London street IN the rain when her shah
BY httls hat 10 blown off and quickly
s'o s,oddsn upon BY Wsll;d.sssed % and m mono. .s
ruined headpiece and smilinEly offers to
pay for II. but Il hsughtily told BY the
young woman that she is no beggar. With
this rebuff he goes on hi: way and Violet
proceeds on hers to run into . motor &c.
eident In which . flower woman with .
little baby boy in her arms is run over
BY the car. The mother II killed. but Ron
ME. her baby; .s s:c.pes pnhurt n, and ID, Il is
him to her cheap lodging house. and In
spit Of the proteats Of
Mrs. Higgs, her landlady. to whom she
l. y debt pro: proceed: d., to mother the iittls s:
the story:
He stopped crying. He eyed her
half fearfully from beneath his long
lashes. Once he looked round the
room as if seeking some one, or
something, familiar to him.
She gave him some warm milk
and some bread and butter, then
carried him over to the fire and be-
gan to unfasten his worn clothes.
Such odd little garments they
were, made from pieces Of material
that once must have been wonan's
frock; badly, but neatly made, and
fastened with old buttons-some-
times with safety pins.
Then she wrapped him in long
rlightdress of her own and laid him
back in the bed. .
He kept quite still. He offered
no resistance, but his piteous eyes
followed her every movement as
she cleared away the simple meal
and mended the fre-now and
again a sort of signing sob shook
his little body.
The girl knelt down beside him
she drew him into her arms.
'"Oh. darling" she said tremulous-
". "Oh, nv dear little man"
She kissed his face, his hair. his
dimpled neck, his small cold hands,
she held him in her arms, Grooming
over him.
Presently he fell asleep-the heavy
lashed eyes closed, his breath came
with slow regularity.
The girl laid him back and covered
him over warmly, then she crossed
softly to the fire and began folding
the tiny garments she had drawn
from the baby limbs.
As she held the ugly frock some
thing in its skirts rustled beneath
her touch. She looked down won
deringly-there was paper sewn
securely to the lining.
Her hands trembled as she cut
the stitches. She took the paper to
the center of the room and held it
beneath the lamplight.
: There was writing on it. written in
faded ink, as if it had been CON-
pleted months ago. She bent closer
and read the words:
II am the wife of Ronald Hast
ings-he deserted me. This is our
child. If / should die, some one
please be good to him" e
That was all, there was no sig
nature, no address.
The girl stared down at the paper
incredulously. She read the sad
little message through again. Some
one tapped smartly on the door. A
girl entered without waiting for
reply.
She was very tall, and showily
dressed-rouge and powder were
fully applied to her dark face. She
swung fashionable bag from a
tightly-gloved hand.
"Hullo," she began in rather a
high-pitched voice. Il heard you
come in-what is" she broke off
as Violet hurried forward, her finger
raised warningly. She pointed to
the child asleep on her bed.
"Hush-he's asleep-he's asleep"
The tall girl started-she looked
from the boys flushed face to her
friend-she stihed a laugh behind
her tightly -gloved hand.
Crumbs Whatever next Who
is he. Violet"
Hes mine-at least, I'm going
to keep him."
Violet's voice was defiant. The
other laughed-she shrugged her
sloping shoulders.
Rubbish! hate kids. Besides,
you can't keep him-you can't keep
yourself
I can work. will work-I'il do
anything to keep him"
"Old pHigss will raise the rent.