EUNICE AND MR. WINTHROP LATHAM
“Ruth, may I go with you to get Eunice?” Mollie Thurston asked next day.
“Certainly, Mollie. Are not the four of us going? We want to bring little Eunice back to the hotel in style. We have had a hard enough time getting hold of her. Her old Indian grandmother would not have let us have the child if it had not been for Naki. The Indian woman seems really to be attached to Ceally and Naki.”
“I am going to ask you a weeny little favor, Ruth. I won’t tell you why I ask you now; but I will tell you as soon as we are in the automobile. Don’t ask Bab to come with us for Eunice,” Mollie entreated.
“Don’t ask Bab? Why, Mollie!” protested Ruth, in surprise. “Bab’s feelings would be dreadfully hurt if I did not ask her.”
“No, they won’t, Ruth. I have already talked to Aunt Sallie. She told Bab she wanted her to stay in the house this morning. Aunt Sallie thinks Barbara is tired from her ride yesterday.”
“Oh, very well, Mollie, I won’t urge Bab to come with us, then; though I can’t understand why you don’t want her along. I shall be glad when you explain the mystery to me,” Ruth concluded.
“That is why I wish to drive over with you. Sh! Aunt Sallie is coming. Don’t say anything before her.”
“Ruth,” explained Mollie, as the three girls were hurrying toward Pittsfield in their motor car, “I want to tell you why I did not wish Bab to come along with us to the hospital for Eunice. I don’t know what you and Grace may think of me; but I intend to try an experiment.”
“An experiment, Mollie!” Grace exclaimed. “What experiment do you intend to try?”
“Well girls,” Mollie continued, “do you recall that Bab went driving, a few days ago, with Reginald Latham, Mr. Winthrop Latham and Aunt Sallie?”
Ruth and Grace both nodded.
“And you remember Bab said she was going to discover, on that drive, what connection Eunice had with the Latham family?”
“Yes,” Grace assented. “Do hurry on to the point of your story.”
“No; you must hear it all over again,” Mollie protested. “I want you and Ruth to remember just exactly the story Bab told us. Reginald Latham did not wish the subject of Eunice mentioned before his uncle, because Mr. Winthrop Latham’s oldest brother had married an Indian girl. It seems the brother met the Indian girl while he was studying the history of the Indians in this neighborhood; so he just married her without mentioning the fact to his family. Of course the Lathams, who were very rich and very distinguished, were heart-broken over the marriage. And I guessed they were not any too good to the poor little Indian woman, when Mr. William Latham brought her back to his home to live. As soon as her husband died, she ran away to her own people. When Mr. Winthrop Latham tried to find her some time afterwards, to give her her husband’s property, it seems that the Indian wife was dead. At any rate Reginald declares this to be the case. From that day to this, the Latham family never speak of anything that even relates to Indians.” Mollie ended her speech in a slightly scornful tone.
“Why, Mollie, don’t you think that is a good enough explanation of Reginald Latham’s attitude toward Eunice?” Ruth asked.
“I most certainly do not!” Miss Mollie replied. “And how do you explain the Indian squaw’s feeling against the name of Latham?”
“Oh, Bab told us, Reginald explained all that to her, too. It seems that the Indians in this vicinity believed poor little Mrs. Latham had been persecuted by her husband’s family. So, if this old squaw ever heard the story, Latham would be an evil name to her,” Grace put in.
Mistress Mollie shrugged her shoulders. “I think that story is very unlikely. But, maybe, you believe it, just as Bab did. All I ask of you is—just be on the look-out to-day! I have been doing a little detective work myself. I do not agree with Bab’s explanation. I told you I was going to try an experiment, and I want you to help me. Then maybe, I can convince you, Bab, and Aunt Sallie of something that I believe! I am sure our little Indian Eunice has a closer connection with the Latham family than any of you dream!”
“Dear me, but you are interesting, Mollie!” interrupted Ruth. “I have a suspicion of what you mean. But go ahead, little Miss Sherlock Holmes! We are with you to the end. We shall be delighted to render any humble assistance necessary to your detective work.”
“I only want you to watch developments this afternoon, girls!” Mollie asserted mysteriously. “Later on, there may be some real work for us to do. So far, I have planned everything myself.”
“Well, Mollie, you are a nice one!” laughed Grace. “Kindly ‘put us on,’ as the saying goes. What have you planned?”
“Nothing but a meeting between Eunice and Mr. Winthrop Latham,” Mollie responded. “We are to take Eunice to the hotel to spend the day with us. She will be looking her best in the lovely clothes Ruth sent to her. And she has grown almost fair from her weeks in the hospital. Mr. Winthrop Latham is to have tea with us this afternoon. I asked Aunt Sallie to invite nobody but him. I shall bring Eunice quietly in, introduce her to Mr. Latham: then we shall see what happens! I did not wish to tell Bab my plan,” Mollie continued, “because she might make me give it up. But I believe Aunt Sallie agrees with me, though she did give me a scolding for having a suspicious nature! She declared, this morning, that it would be very well to have Mr. Winthrop Latham see Eunice. So just let’s wait, and watch with all our eyes this afternoon.”
“Bully for your experiment, Mollie!” nodded Grace. Ruth bowed her head to show how fully she agreed with both of the girls.
A pretty hospital nurse brought Eunice out to Ruth’s motor car. The child had on a soft ecru dress, cut low at the throat and simply made. She wore a brown coat, lined with scarlet, and a big brown felt hat with a scarf knotted loosely around it.
And Eunice looked very lovely! Her hair was braided in two plaits, tied with soft scarlet ribbons. Her eyes were big and black with the excitement of entering a strange world. Her complexion was now only a little darker than olive. Her cheeks were like two scarlet flames.
Eunice hugged Mollie close, once she was seated in the automobile. When the big car started, she laughed gleefully, clapping her hands as she cried. “It is truly a red bird, that carries us on its wings!” She remembered what Ruth had told her.
“Always Eunice has longed for wings like the birds!” Eunice whispered softly to Mollie. “Now, behold! We are almost flying!”
“Look overhead, Mollie, Eunice, Ruth!” called Grace suddenly.
The four girls looked up.
A great white object sailed above them.
Eunice clutched Mollie. “Is it the great white spirit, my grandmother has told me about?” she inquired.
“Oh, that is Reginald Latham in his airship,” Mollie explained to Grace. “He said the rudder of Mr. Latham’s balloon had been mended. He meant to try some short flights to see if it was all right.”
“But I do not understand!” Eunice protested. “Is a man riding on that great, great big bird?”
“Yes, Eunice,” Mollie assented. “But that object above our heads is an airship, not a bird.”
“Then I wish to ride in an airship,” Eunice murmured. “It flies up in the air like a real bird. This car runs only along the earth.” The child was no longer impressed with the automobile. Reginald Latham’s airship was the most marvelous thing she had ever beheld.
After arriving at their hotel “The Automobile Girls” showed Eunice everything they could find to amuse her. They rode up and down with her in the elevator. They gave her a peep into the hotel’s splendid reception rooms. Poor little Eunice was in a daze! She wandered about like a child in a dream. Every now and then she would ask Mollie some question in regard to Reginald Latham’s airship. She had not forgotten it.
Miss Stuart wisely had luncheon served in the private sitting-room. She did not think it best for Eunice to be seen by so many people; besides, she did not know how Eunice would behave at the table.
To Miss Sallie’s unspeakable relief the child had learned at the hospital to eat with a knife and fork. Her manners were those of a frightened child. She was neither noisy nor vulgar.
“The child is certainly an enigma!” Miss Stuart said to herself, half a dozen times during the morning. “What the doctor says is true! The child is almost refined. It is marvelous! In spite of her ignorance, she does nothing to offend one!”
After luncheon, Miss Stuart noticed that Eunice looked white and exhausted. The scarlet color had faded from her cheeks and lips. The little girl was not strong enough for so much excitement after her recent illness.
“Mollie,” Miss Sallie suggested, about half-past two o’clock, “take Eunice to your room. Give her a dressing gown, and see that she rests for an hour or so. You may stay with the child, Mollie, for fear she may be frightened, but you other girls keep away. The child is worn out. Mollie, you may bring her back to us at tea-time.”
Mollie agreed. She guessed that Miss Sallie was furthering her idea about the experiment.
“Remember, Bab, you have promised me to be here at tea-time,” Mollie reminded her sister.
“Certainly, I shall be here, Mollie. Did you think I was going away?”
Mollie then took Eunice away to lie down.
The child was so tired she soon fell asleep on Mollie’s bed.
Mollie sat thinking quietly by the darkened window. She had taken a deep fancy to little Eunice, who had seemed to cling to her since their first strange meeting.
Barbara and Mollie Thurston were both unusually thoughtful girls. Their mother’s devoted companions for years, their poverty had made them understand more of life. Mollie realized it would not do for Eunice to grow up ignorant and wild, with only her old grandmother for a companion. The little Indian was already thirsting for a different life. And, some day, the grandmother would die. What would then become of Eunice?
A little before four o’clock Eunice awakened, having slept nearly two hours. She was refreshed and happy again.
Mollie made Eunice bathe her face. She herself fixed the child’s hair, now smooth and glossy from the care that the nurses at the hospital had given to it.
“We will go back to see our friends now, Eunice,” explained Mollie.
Eunice nodded. “It is wonderful here where you live!” she declared. “Sometimes I think I have dreamed of people like you and your friends. I think I have seen things like what you have here in this house. But how could I dream of what I knew nothing?”
Mollie shook her head thoughtfully. “Eunice, dear, you will have to ask a wiser person than I am about your dreams. Who knows what may be stored away in that little head of yours? Come, dear, let us put your gold chain on the outside of your dress. There can be no harm in that. I think Miss Sallie, the lady with the white hair, would like to look at it.”
Eunice, who had a girl’s fancy for pretty ornaments, was glad to have Mollie pull the chain out from under her dress. The curious, beautiful ornament shone glittering and lovely against the light background formed by the child’s dress.
“Wait for me here, Eunice,” requested Mollie. “I want to go into the other room for a minute.”
Mollie peeped inside the sitting-room door.
Mr. Winthrop Latham was cosily drinking his tea in the best of humor. He had a decided liking for Miss Stuart and her “Automobile Girls.”
Bab was joking with Mr. Latham as she plied him with sandwiches and cakes.
For half a minute Mollie’s heart misgave her. She was afraid to try her experiment.
The Cup in Mr. Latham’s Hand Trembled.
“Good gracious!” she thought, finally, “what possible harm can it do Mr. Winthrop Latham to look at poor, pretty little Eunice? If the child means nothing to him, he will not even notice her. If she turns out to be the child I believe she is, why, then—then—it is only right that her uncle, Mr. Winthrop Latham, should know of her existence.”
“Come, now, Eunice!” cried Mollie. “Come into the sitting-room with me. The girls have some pretty cakes and sweet things they are saving for you.”
Mollie took Eunice’s hand. The two girls were nearly of the same size and age. They quietly walked into the sitting-room.
“Where is ‘Automobile Girl’ number four?” Mollie heard Mr. Latham ask, just as the two girls entered the room.
“Here I am!” Mollie replied.
Mr. Latham glanced up. His ruddy face turned white as chalk.
Mollie never took her eyes from Mr. Latham’s face. Miss Stuart, Bab, Grace and Ruth stared at him.
But Mr. Latham did not notice any one of them. His jaw dropped. The cup in his hand trembled. Still he did not speak.
Barbara broke the silence. “Mr. Latham, are you ill?” she asked. “May I take your teacup from you?”
Mr. Latham shook his head. He continued to gaze steadily at Eunice.
Little Eunice was frightened by the strange man’s stare. She trembled. Her rosebud lips quivered. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Come to me, Eunice,” Ruth called comfortingly. “See the candies I have been saving for you! Mr. Latham, this is the little Indian girl who was hurt. You remember that we have spoken of her before?”
“Will some one take the child away?” Mr. Latham asked, brokenly.
Mollie led Eunice back to her bedroom. Then she hurried in again to rejoin the others.
“Miss Stuart, I owe you and your girls an explanation for my strange conduct,” Mr. Latham declared. “I feel, this afternoon, that I have seen a ghost! I do not understand this Indian child’s likeness to my dead sister-in-law. I must seek an explanation somewhere. This little Eunice is the living image of my brother’s Indian wife—the poor girl whom our cruelty drove from our home back to the tents of her own people to die. I was told that her little child died with her. There is a mystery here that must be solved. If this little girl is the daughter of my brother and his Indian wife, one-half of my fortune belongs to her.”
“Mr. Latham,” Miss Stuart quietly interrupted him, “this Indian child has an old grandmother who will be able to tell you whether this child has any connection with you. I have always thought there must be some explanation. The squaw has kept the child hidden for a purpose.”
“You are right, Miss Stuart,” Mr. Latham interrupted. “You tell me this child’s name is Eunice? Eunice was the name of my brother’s wife. It is also the Christian name for the female Indians of a certain tribe, but there is little doubt, in my mind, of this girl’s identity. The gold chain about her throat was my brother’s gift to his wife. That chain has the story of my brother’s love and courtship engraved on it in Indian characters. But I am too much upset to discuss the matter any further to-day. When can I see the Indian grandmother?”
“To-morrow,” Miss Stuart replied quietly. “I would not advise you to delay.”
“Will you go with me to see her at ten o’clock to-morrow morning, Miss Stuart?” queried Mr. Latham.
“Certainly,” Miss Sallie agreed.
“I beg of you then not to mention what has taken place in this room this afternoon,” Mr. Latham urged. “When we know the truth in regard to this child it will be time to tell the strange story. Good-bye until to-morrow morning.”
“Mollie,” Bab cried as soon as the door closed on Mr. Latham, “I surrender. And I humbly beg your pardon. You are a better detective than I am. What is the discovery of the Boy Raffles compared with your bringing to light the family history of poor little Eunice! Just think, instead of being a poor, despised Indian girl, Eunice is heiress to a large fortune.”
“Then you believe in me now, Bab!” Mollie rejoined. “I have always thought Eunice was in some way connected with the Latham family.”
“Girls,” Miss Stuart cautioned quietly, “when you take Eunice to her grandmother, at Naki’s house, say nothing. Remember, you are to speak to no one of what happened this afternoon.”