The northwestern bulletin-appeal., 1924-09-20

tG. lszf, western Newspaper OhiohJ
CTS THAT your little daughter up
i stairsT asked the Ewings.
Next moment regretted having
asked that question. An expression
Of incredulity came on Ewing's face,
Of pain on his wife's.
There's no child upstairs" NUT
tered Ewing.
/ said no more. II was at the din
ner table, and one can't fatty contra
dict ones host. l had never been
In the Ewing house before. They
were new friends of mine, though aft
erward they became dear ones. They
had a big, old-fashoined home In the
country, and after We had met at the
beach hotel they invited me with them
to spend the week end.
had understood they had no chill
dren. Some neighbor's child, or per-
haps servants, supposed. who had
strayed in. 0nly-here was the odd
thing-there were toys scattered
everywhere about the big, well-lit room
that had strayed into.
A child's room. Had they lost lit
tie one? That might account for
It,. A servants child, no doubt--the
Ewings kept five. 1t had been a tact
less remark that I had made.
But what lovely childi And how
radiantly she had smiled at me when
she turned her head at my entrance.
l had wanted to caress her, to smooth
the fair hair flying about her shoul-
ders. But am shy with children.
And then the little one had been so
busy with her toys, playing, after that
first, smiling glance at me, as IL she
had not seen me, or had forgotten me.
She played so nicely, too. She put
the blocks so quietly one on top OF the
other. had anticipated some delight
ful hours with her, for I am fond Of
children.
And had quietly withdrawn to my
room and washed for dinner, and then
gone down, to ask that tactless Ques-
tiOn.
saw reproof In the eyes of old
Aunt Mary, a formidable dowager, a
sister Of Mrs. Ewing. The other
guests-three Of them-did not seem
to see anything queer in the situa-
tion.
Aunt Mary and I had a little talk
that night. After a while was en-
couraged to speak Of my tactless-
ness.
But whose can the child have
beenf" I asked.
"They lost a child" she answered.
"You mean-?' I was Mortified.
"Yes. Others have seen her some
times, playing up there. Mr.. Ewing
obstinately asserts that It Is all i'm
agination, but I think he believes 1t,
that's what breaks her heart. She
only hears OF her from others"
"You believe that?"
Didn't you see herT'
I had no more to say. Aunt Mary
continued:
1T is very pitiful and tragic. You
see, the parents were rigid discipline.
rians. They brought her up In the
mistaken idea that children must be
forced to obey. And little Doris was
willfui. And obstinate. They tried
to break her Will. They whipped her
They thought they were doing right by
her.
The mother whipped her the day
before she was taken III with scarie,
fever-whipped the obstinate little
thing and sent her supperless to bed
Ten days later she was dead.
"She thinks the reason why she
has never seen her is because she
whipped her. 1t nearly kills her when
others say they have seen her. Mr..
Ewing, as I said. pretends not to be.
lieve. Don't say another word"
mo. I'm sorry I blundered into
this" I answered, still half-incredu'
lous "Have you seen herr"
"Oh, yes, heaps Of times, but she
never seems TO notice-just goes on
playing with her toys They left that
room just as it was after she died.
When l left Aunt Mary Mrs Ewing
came up to me in a hesitant sort OF
way.
"You-you know nowT she whis
pered piteously.
"Yes. I know. and I'm so sorry"
answered. "She was a dear, beautiful
little girl"
"If could see her-only once y
moaned the mother.
"I knew her secret sorrow, Of course
but / couldn't let her know what Aunt
Mary had told me.
"If could believe she's happy"
"Why," I said, "her smile was radl
anti"
"Her smile!" She looked at me
earnestly. Then q smile came on hel
own face-a smile Of utter happiness
just like the little girls.
"Her smilef 1t Is the first time she
has been seen smiling. shall be hap