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Show N0RR,S W.N.U.RELEASP x TIM! 8TOUY SO I'"Mt: Charlotte (I lu rry) Itinvllnus, orphan since she win xtven years old, has been at Saint llorothea'i school for Btrls. She knows almost nolhlnii about her early history, but lins Rrailnally como to realize that like the other Btrls at the school she has no family, and she questions whether sho has the rluht to her father's name. She develops Into a very attractive elrl, and has a flair for writing the school's plays and arranging their tableaux. ' She Is In the costume of an Indian chief's daughter, having appeared In one of her own plays, when Judge Juitson Marshbanks, her co-guardian with Km ma Haskell, a trained nurse, appears to arrange for her to leave the school. Sho remembers that Emma nursed her mother before her death, and Judge Marshbanks tells her that Emma has gotten her a secretarial position with the very wealthy Mrs. Porteous Porter of San Francisco, where Emma is now housekeeper. Now continue with the story. CHAPTER II "Because," the girl offered slowly and doubtfully, "it wasn't that way. I was only seven, but I knew that something was wrong. Nothing was left for me, no pictures of anyone, no letters or names. This school, you know, isn't like an ordinary school. We know we aren't like other oth-er girls. Everyone here has some strange history no letters, no going home for holidays, no presents and surprises." "No; this isn't a regular school," he conceded. "But according to Emma it was the best thing to do. And you seem to have flourished," he added with a smile. "You've gone along here more as if it were a home ..." "With a capital letter!" she put in as he paused. He looked at her in his kindly way and smiled. "A place where girls are protected protect-ed and safe, and well fed . . ."He raised questioning eyes. "Well fed?" he asked. "Not so oh, yes, all right," she 1 conceded, not interested. An impatient impa-tient jerk of her head took him back 1 to the point where he had inter-1 inter-1 runted himself. "And are taught good professions," profes-sions," he finished. "Dressmaking, bookkeeping, stenography, ste-nography, beauty-parlor work," she supplied. "But," she added, "those aren't what they teach girls in other schools. But that won't keep me from trying terribly hard to make good. You said something about a position? What am I to do?" "Youare not to do anything until you find just what you want to do," he said, his graying hair and his fifty years making it possible for him to use a father's kindly tone. "But for the time being it is a secretarial sec-retarial position with the same old la(jya very rich old woman named Mrs. Porter Mrs. Porteous Porter, for whom Emma works. Answering the telephone, and correspondence, nnd reading that sort of thing." "Oh, that?" the girl said with a brightening face. "That I think I could do!" "I'm sure you could. And you would be paid seventy-five dollars a month." "Seventy-five dollars a month! Oh, she is kind!" "When when would I go?" she aS"This is let's see, the third," he said. "Suppose you come down on Monday? Monday's a good day to start. You take a train at half past ! five in the afternoon, and at seven the next night someone wiU meet you at the Oakland Mole." "Sunday wouldn't do?" she asked. "Why not?" ; "I was thinking, when you said Oakland, that twp Sisters are going down to the Oakland house on Sun- day; we're having a jubilee for ' them Sunday afternoon; they would take me." ' "That would be an excellent arrangement. ar-rangement. You come first to my house, you understand, and we can go over and see Emma when you've " some clothes and have had time to loo" about a little. I must see Moth-er Moth-er Superior before I go and make the arrangements for you. And then they were walking back toward the convent's main building rough wide, orderly, dimly lighted corridors. n must tell you about my A, Cherry," the man said. My mother lives with us-Mrs. Clay terrwted himself to explain and up. . , . She was going awy from toe only world she knew th e atf :LngeeWexeitednhappiness of antici- "Had once - t ,urk and conJortle- rep times were change Superior was noted to ty0fher views. Her g jt Iwinitrburry of Planes 1 " -51 B"R: -: s I I ! v)li5 : ; . .,.,.,. , .', ' In , . i j 1 f W4pj She jumped when old Dr. O'Conner touched her arm realizing thak she was hungry and went with him through the swaying train to the dining car. and cars, its noise and progress. "Old girls" were twenty, found employment under "responsible custody" cus-tody" in the unknown world, and disappeared; new girls came in, small and frightened and homesick even from the most unfit and wretched of homes, or rebellious and angry and full of muttered threats of escape. So Cherry, formally discharged from the books as "Charlotte Raw-lings," Raw-lings," with due details of her admission ad-mission and her thirteen years' residence resi-dence at the convent entered upon a formidable-looking graph, was not as entirely unprepared for entrance into the world as her custodians might have fancied her to be. . At leaving, Cherry wore the convent con-vent uniform of black serge and white collar, and a round hat hike a small black basket' turned upside down. The hat dated back some ten years, but it was a hat, and that was all that girls from Saint T-,t0'c ovnpftpH nf headgear. lyuiumta 1 J Mother Superior had given her the ten dollars with a parting word of instruction. This money was for any emergency; her tickets and meals on the train would be paid for by the Sisters in whose care she was traveling. "This wouldn't have been my choice of a school for you. Cherry," the nun had said. "I've- been considering con-sidering in my own mind whether I ought to say this much to you," she. added, "and I've asked for guidance guid-ance in the matter. But there seems to be no harm in telling you that I felt and dear Mother Bertrand felt, thirteen years ago that you should have been one of the Victor street girls. Our school here is for cases that are underprivileged for girls who are definitely unfortunate, perhaps per-haps through no fault of their own. However, the servant your moaner's moan-er's servant, who brought you here was very definite that it had been her wish to put you with us. Mrs. Haskell Emma you remember her? you will see her now had known a fine woman who Wcame one of Saint Dorothea's Sisters, and through her she knew exactly the character of our work." "I remember Emma," Cherry had stammered, almost faint with this final excitement. There had not been any especial stigma attached to her name then; she might have been one of the Victor street girls! Sister Fabian and Sister Gervase were both indisposed on the train. They did not want any supper; they had the three berths made up immediately, im-mediately, and Cherry left them to the little room, found a window seat in the empty length of the car and sat, fascinated, watching the landscape flying by. She jumped when old Dr. O'Conner touched her arm, realized real-ized that she was hungry, went with him through the swaying train to the dining car. -and was so rapt over its light and warmth and the bewildering bewilder-ing obligation of ordering something from a menu for the first time in her life that tea and biscuits and honey were all she could murmur when her companion poised his pen-cil pen-cil over the order blank. Rth little nuns were tucked up ir bed when she cautiously entered ne drawing room. Cherry had the founge and slept the sleep of youth Ind fatigue within its narrow bounds boun-ds Breakfast was another adventure-such smoking coffee, such buttered toast!-and the long day it rlraaeed for almost everyone on boara was too short for her But at a quarter past seven o'c ock for the train was late-when they tended somewhat grimy and jad-Pd jad-Pd at toe Oakland Mole, sheer ner- vnus excitement and expectation had vousexcui. tQ0 exhausted her Sh wa P mUCht ve to effect of her chauffeur. 1 "was Quickly identified by the H I Sisters and Cherry in her ZT the nice middle-aged A who had accompanied him. "May h" housemaid, who had . ,n meet her, was really, beeD S6H scoved a Mrs. Mott who "fwo almost grown boys. But ha "May" to the whole house-Shf7 house-Shf7 he satd goodhumoredly, and aem had better call her so. rso tarpon,- "The judge said you'd be with us only a few days. He is going to play bridge somewhere tonight, and he's having his dinner at seven. Mrs. Marshbanks and Miss Amy are going out to dinner before a party, and he's to bring them home dear knows when. It's a coming-out party par-ty for Miss Patsy Randall." "I didn't mind that, my dear," she said. "Here we are," May added, as the car stopped at the foot of an imposing flight of stone steps. "I'm going to slip upstairs, and I'll not see you again unless you need me. Molly'U show you your room. I'm usually with the old lady after dinner, din-ner, but she's away and I'm going "to a movie tonight. You ask Molly for anything you want." Cherry and her patent-leather bag were abandoned for just a few moments mo-ments in the big entrance hall. She had time only for a breath-taking impression of such spaciousness and beauty and color as she had never seen before, of soft rugs beneath her feet and dimly lighted arches w leading to great dimly lighted rooms on all sides, of potted palms and bursts cf winter flowers, before Judge Marshbanks came forward to take possession of her, and confide her to the care of Molly, a pretty maid with very black eyes and a very white skin. By this time the girl was too much dazed to believe her senses. She i followed Molly upstairs to an incredibly in-credibly luxurious big room with an unbelievably complete bathroom next to it, brushed her hair and washed her face in a condition of complete bewilderment, and descended de-scended again, still under Molly's escort, to the dining room where it appeared that she and her host were to be the only persons at dinner. He was halfway through his meal; hers was served to her fresh and hot. But she was unable to eat. The quality of the Italian lace that was spread on the polished wood, the beauty of china and crystal, the soft light of candles were such as Cherry Cher-ry had never seen in her life before, be-fore, nor ever dreamed could exist, and the numbing sense of being only in a dream made it impossible for her to taste or swallow anything. Even the food was beyond what had been her most fantastic imaginings. "Don't you like that?" the judge asked, looking over his paper. "It's wonderful. She made a valiant val-iant attack upon it. "Know what it is?" "No, sir. Chicken, I guess." "That's partridge. If you don't like it Martin will get you an omelette." ome-lette." "Oh, no, please! It's delicious." To her own disgust and surprise, her voice thickened. But he did not seem to notice it, and when he returned re-turned to his paper she made herself her-self finish her dinner, and felt her nerves more steady. A sudden sense that she did not belong in this scene, that it had nothing to do with her, that she never should have entered it, had i almost wrecked her self-control for a moment. With the blinding force of a revelation she knew that her rumpled childish dress was absurd, i that the dowdy hat she had left up- tv,a huloinp shnbbv Datent- sians, - leather bag, the ugly school shoes and cotton gloves and stockings had no place in this house, and were like nothing that had ever been here before. She knew, inexperienced as she was she had read it in her host's first look that her shabbi-ness shabbi-ness and homeliness had shocked him. He had seen her only once before, Bushed with triumph after the school play, made up into her handsomest self as a brown-skinned Indian girl gay in feathers and fringes. . The knowledge that came to her in this flash of shame and pain made the big dining-room chair in which she sat a seat of torture ta her. But she did her best to conquer the feeling, and was quite calm when a young man came in, unannounced, un-announced, and drew a chair to Judge Marshbank's side. The judge, after a casual friendly greeting, glanced over at her and said "Mr. Coates, Cherry," and then', "This is Miss Rawlings. Kelly." (TO BE CONTINUED) |