OCR Text |
Show When Stephen Became a Stepmother. Loraine entered the room with a grim smile. "Allow me to present to you, Stephen," she said, mockingly, "Miss Maida and Master Harvey AlsopV' The man arose with charming courtesy cour-tesy and pressed the hesitating little hand of each child warmly. "I'm very glad to meet you," he said cordially. "The pleasure's mine, sir," replied the little boy promptly, looking ques-tioningly ques-tioningly at his little sister, who-was twisting her dress in a bashful agony, ; Stephen Cranshawe laughed in hearty amusement, then turned to the child with new interest. "Will you sit on my knee, young man?" he-inquired respectfully "No. Stephen," interposed Loraine quickly: "they should have been in bed long ago. I only kept them up that I 1 might display them to you. You'll have to pardon me while I lend my valuable but not valued services to the performance." per-formance." Laughing lightly, she drew both children peremptorily from the room. "So they are Mary Hale's children? inquired her fiance as Loraine reentered re-entered the room. "A very attractive pair. How long are they going to stay with you?" 1 "Oh, Stephen, it's just the most trying try-ing thing imaginable," replied the girl, sinking wearily onto the sofa. "You know I received a telegram on Tuesday from Mary, or rather from the Trained Individual in attendance upon her, to come to Boston at once. Well, I went, though I must confess I didn't want to one bit, as I had to miss the Judkins' bridge and Jane Hamilton's reception. I hope you're not bored at this long talen for I'm involved in an awful dilemma." "Go on, dear; I'm very much interested." inter-ested." said Stephen quietly. " Ire-ceived Ire-ceived only your hurried note the day you left, and have been anxious to hear particulars." "Well, when I got there I found Mary desperately ill, and. Stephen, she asked me to bring up. her two children!" "That little boy and girl that you just showed me?" asked the man, In amazement. Loraine nodded silently. "Of course, Howard is dead, you know, and I think that I told you tnat Mary was an only child and an orphan. She was my chum and room-mate at boarding school, and we have been almost al-most inseparable since." "Didn't you tell me that there was some trouble between her and her husband's hus-band's family?"' interrupted Stephen. "Yes. Howard's family weren't pleased with the match. Why I never know or could imagine. But they had nothing to do with Mary or with Howard How-ard after he married her." "But she must have some relatives who will care for the youngsters," insisted in-sisted Cranshawe. "Not on this side of the water. Her family migrated from Scotland, and she has never known any of her relatives. I found her suffering a haunting dread that the child would either be sent to Howard's family, who would gradually encourage them to forget her, or be placed in an institution. She asked me to bring them up, and to calm her I promised that I would." Cranshawe looked decidedly troubled. "Poor little girl," he said, eommiser-atingly, eommiser-atingly, "that is going to be a tremendous tremend-ous undertaking for you." She looked at him in unfeigned surprise. sur-prise. "Why, of course, I didn't mean it, you goosie," she said impatiently. "Didn't mean it?" he repeated, puzzled. puz-zled. "Why, of course, I didn't mean that I would bring them up myself. A promise like that doesn't count. I've written Howard's mother today, and I'm only keeping the children till she sends for them." SteDhen uttered an exclamation of amazement. "I don't see, Lorrie, how you can attach such slight significance to a thing like that," he said gently. "You were that poor girl's nearest and dearest dear-est friend, the only person upon whom in her time of need she could rely. You gave her your word. I don't see how you can honorably break it." "Really I think you are allowing yourself your-self to be very sentimental," said the girl coldly; "my position is so perfectly impossible. The very idea Of me, a young girl, being burdened with the care of two children a boy of eight and a girl of six is simply preposterous. I would have to have the entire oversight of them, as Grace, you know, is studying study-ing art from early morning till late at night, and Frances is in college." The last mentioned were her two sisters. sis-ters. "Would they be any financial burden to you?" he asked quietly. "No," she admitted reluctantly. "Mary-left "Mary-left enough, I'm sure, to keep them comfortably in a plain sort of way. But, heavens. Stephen, here we are planning to be inarried in November. It isn't fair to either of us to start in handicapped handi-capped like that," she added as a final trump card. "As to the handicap," pursued Cranshawe, Cran-shawe, relentlessly, "that's a matter of opinion. As for myself, I've always been passionately fond, of youngsters, and they'd be a constant delight to me." Loraine colored in annoyance. "Oh. well, I guess you'll see it differently dif-ferently when you come to think it over," ho said hastily. After that they talked of other things, but the first vital barrier of discussion had been builded between them, and both were subtly conscious of it. After Stephen had taken his departure thatn ight Loraine wa3 vaguely troubled. trou-bled. The thought had occurred to her with unpleasant frequence of late that she was no longer to him the girl that he had at first thought her to be. There was beginning to dawn upon her the conviction that their aims and ideals were utterly diverse; that they were growing more and more out of accord with each other, out of svmnathv. Considerably more than two weeks elapsed before Loraine heard from Howard How-ard Hale's mother. She read the letter let-ter to Stephen. "Of all despicable things!" he exclaimed ex-claimed indignantly. "Her own grandchildren, grand-children, her own son's children" "Well, I could never understand their aversion to Mary, as T said before, but since they took that stand." said Loraine, indifferently, "I think they were perfectly consistent and justifiable in not allowing two children to be thrust unceremoniously upon them. I have taken steps to have both children placed in the 'Foster Home.' " ' "Do you mean that?" he demanded, slowly. "I most certainly do. I felt certain that Howard's family wouldn't take them, so I've been making inquiries on my own account." "Those good-looking, attractive youngsters committed to an institution!" institu-tion!" he exclaimed, half to himself. "Why, Lorrie, do you know that any people, provided, of course, that they're responsible, can adopt those children? You relinquish every claim to them. I tell you it's a hard life for children who have once known a home." |