The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1943-01-29

quietly.
'sYou ought to know" said Emma
-''not that you ever can prove it!
that you aren't Charlotte Rawl-
ings at all, Cherry. You ought to
know that you're Amelia Marsh
banks"
Cherry swallowed with a dry
throat, essayed to speak, failed.
'sYou said, Aunt Emma" she
stammered after a silence and
stopped. "You didn't say that I'm
Amy :.
Breath failed her again. The 9TH
err woman looked at her somberly.
'sTll tell you what happened"
Emma said in her Unconditional way.
81 was twelve years older than
Lottie; my mother died when she
was two. She was pretty the way
Amy is, only slighter and smaller,
with Amy's kind OF hair. After my
father died we lived with an aunt
and uncle; they weren't always kind
to me, but everyone adored Lottie.
When my aunt died l kept house
for my uncle and Lottie was my
baby. When she was six took her
to her first school. did her home
work with her.
''My father was John Rawlings
he could never do much for us, and
when he died and my uncle and aunt
died. was nineteen then-Lottie
was all had left.
swell, I married Tom Haskell,
and he was a father to her. She
was ten, and pretty as picture.
One Sunday we were driving along
comfortably, Lottie squeezed in be-
tween me and Tom on the front
seat and suddenly a big truck
smashed in on us from the left.
Tom was dead at the wheel; / was
broken almost in two. But little Lot
tie was protected by our bodies.
''Three months later went to the
Marshbanks. I tried st. Dorothea's
for Lottie-an old friend of mine
was Sister there-but she couldn't
stand it, SO / boarded her with a
fine Irishwoman who had three chill
dren. I saw her often, every week
nearly. s
ssWhen she was old enough Lottie
went to nice, simple little boarding
school in Belmont. Summers they
had camp, and she was happy and
good and prettier and prettier.
'sF'red Marshbanks, your father,
was one of the handsomest men /
ever saw, but weak..aHe had mar
ried Amelia Wellington by, this time
she was lovely girl with blue
eyes and light hair, but for long
time it looked as. if they couldn't
have child, and it broke her heart.
Jud Marshbanks was married too,
but he lived in the East, and they
only saw his little boy now and then.
That's Gregory, of course.
81 wanted Lottie nearer me then,
and she'd left school, and boarded
down in Redwood City. But she was
often with me in the Marshbanks
house.
''When Lottie was eighteen and !
was thirty was sewing in my room
one night. We were all under con-
siderable strain in the house, for
at last Fred's wife was going to have
a baby, and they were terribly anx-
ious for fear something would 60
wrong again.
SIT was eleven o'clock, and was
thinking of going to bed when sud-
denly my door opened, and Lottie
was there. She gave me terrible
stare.
''The minute saw her ] knew we
were lost somehow, but ] didn't
know why. She looked pale and
changed and she didn't smile or kiss
me. She just crossed the room and
lnelt down at my knee, and said,
Sis, I'm in trouble. "A
II asked hers what kind Of trou-
BILE, and she cried, and gradually it
came to1me-thatf KNEW ~ .f
II kept patting her hands, and
swallowing. and looking away, and
by and by heard myself telling
her. All right, darling, I'll take care