The Birmingham age-herald., 1924-06-28
CHAPTER s4

ful morning than the one upon
 which I expected Manville. It seemed as if nature herself was glad for me and had put on her gayest smiles of welcome. I dressed both Anna and myself very carefully, first having to promise 1 would also 'have" the kitten a promise readily gave because of the need the creature had of one.
 We ate on the porch as usual. told Anna her father was coming, but she did not seem to share my joy in the least. I really was happy that he was coming. His letters had been so kind. I had so welcomed his acts of thought fulness for me that even if he wanted his aunt to live with him I felt sure he would be gentle and considerate.
 His train was due about Il 80. At 10 I could bear inactivity no longer, and, taking Anna, started for walk, thinking we would bring up at the sta tion by train time. We had gone but a little way when Anna began to cry.
 What is it? Whats the matter, dear" I asked.
 "I ants my baby kittie, does," she sobbed.
 But you have your dollie." She was dragging her along by her arm. You can't carry two babies"
 "'Ou carry pet. I ants my baby kittie." So sobbing I led her back to the hotel for the kitten. Was ever any thing so strange and so laughable? We would meet her father. she carrying an animal of the same family as the one which has so neary cont her life. l wondered what Manville would say. I had entirely forgotten that l had sug gested when his aunt was with us that we get a small kitten and teach Anna not to be afraid, and that my suggestion had been ignored.
 We must have presented an odd ap- pearance as we waited, Anna with the kitten hugged tightly in her arms, I with the doll, which, by the way, was much the worse for wear because of the careless treatment she received from Anna.
 But Manville seemed not to notice anything strange in our appearance, for he swept us both into his arms, doll, kitten and all. But when l ex- plained how she came to have the kitten, toll him the whole story, he remarked rather sadly:
 You were right in that, too, Susan. guess a mother knows more about such things than father does" That was all, but to me it was a wonderful confession. My heart beat little fas- ter. Was he going to be kind in other things?
 He had said nothing concerning his plans. I could not have framed question to have saved my life. The only reference he had made to his promise to tell me when he came was just before supper, which we had on the porch.
 "We will talk after Anna goes to bed" Then he had played with her and the kitten, she rollicking all over him as they ran on the smooth lawn or in and out of the flower -bordered paths of the kitchen garden.
 It was quite dusk when finally left her and rejoined him on the porch, where he sat smoking.
 Come here, Susan" He pulled a chair close to his own. could scarcely walk, trembled so. I felt that in the next few minutes my fate would be de- cided. Not until that moment did I realize how keenly had hoped it would be in my favor. Never had Manville seemed so desirable, my home so attrac- tive, life without husband and home so forbidding.
 TOT several minutes ne dlQn speak. Then
 T wonder, Susan, if you will ever realize how hard a task you have given me; if in all your life you will ever understand what it has meant. I never realized how much I loved you and Anna until I was in danger of losing you. I appreciated how much I owed aunt, how much I cared for her, until contemplated the possibility of so deeply wounding her.
 Il lived in the house alone with the cook for the first week. You had taken none of your little personal belongings and l could scarcely realize that you had run away from the home I had tried, really tried, Susan, to make at tractive for you. But as the days passed I began to sense something of what my life would mean if I had to go on living it without you and the