THE RECOGNITION
Miss Stuart and Mr. Winthrop Latham did not arrive in North Adams the next morning.
A little before noon, Miss Sallie telegraphed to Ruth: “Must see Indian woman before we join you. Proof of child’s identity required. Wait.”
Ruth showed her telegram to the girls.
Barbara shook her head. “More of the work of Mrs. Latham and Reginald,” she suggested.
Soon after the receipt of Ruth’s telegram, the afternoon before, Miss Stuart telephoned Mr. Winthrop Latham, “Will you please come to the hotel to see me immediately?”
Now, Miss Sallie realized her difficult position. How was she to protect the interests of Eunice without accusing Mr. Latham’s relatives of evil designs against the child?
She called up Naki in Pittsfield and told him to come to her hotel that evening. “Naki can tell Mr. Latham what I cannot,” Miss Sallie reflected. “He can report the visit of Mrs. Latham and Reginald to the Indian squaw, and can make Mr. Latham see his sister’s intentions.”
Mr. Latham arrived first for the interview with Miss Stuart. He looked worn and tired.
“My ‘Automobile Girls’ have run off with Eunice!” Miss Stuart at once informed him.
“Why should there be any running away with the child?” Mr. Latham asked impatiently. “I could very easily have gone up to the wigwam in the morning. I think, in many respects, it will be wisest to see the Indian woman and child on their own ground. To tell you the truth, Miss Stuart, I shall require positive proofs that this Indian girl is the child that my brother’s Indian wife carried away from our home years ago.”
“Certainly, Mr. Latham,” Miss Stuart replied quietly. “I entirely agree with you; but I think it may be possible to secure such proofs.”
“I have been talking to my sister and nephew of this child,” Mr. Latham continued. “They regard the idea that this little Eunice is the daughter of my brother’s wife as absurd. They recalled the fact that we were positively assured of the child’s death. They do not believe it possible that the Indian relatives would not have claimed the child’s fortune for her. There were a number of educated Indians living in the town of Stockbridge at the time. My brother’s wife took refuge with them after leaving us.”
“Then, Mr. Latham,” Aunt Sallie rejoined, “if the Indian grandmother cannot give you satisfactory proofs of the child’s parentage, possibly you can find the additional proofs in Stockbridge.”
Mr. Latham was silent. He had not been sorry to be persuaded by Mrs. Latham and Reginald that Eunice was an impostor.
Naki knocked at the door.
“I would rather not see visitors, Miss Stuart,” Mr. Latham declared. “I am entirely upset by this present situation.”
“It is only our Indian guide, Naki,” Miss Sallie explained. “I sent for him.”
“Naki,” Miss Sallie began, as soon as the man entered the room. “My niece has taken Eunice away for a few days. She told me to ask you to go up to the wigwam and bring the Indian woman down to your house again.”
Naki shut his lips together. “The Indian woman will not return to my house,” he said.
“Why not?” Miss Stuart asked, angrily. “It is much better for her to be with you. She will die up there.”
“She wishes to die up there,” Naki avowed.
“Nonsense!” retorted Miss Stuart. “We cannot let her suffer so because of the child.”
“She is afraid to come down the hill again,” Naki continued. “She is afraid of the law.”
“Why should she be afraid of the law?” inquired Mr. Latham.
“I cannot tell,” Naki replied; “but the woman who came to my house with her son told the old squaw she must hide. If her secret was discovered she would be sent to prison.”
“What woman and her son came to your house to see this squaw?” asked Mr. Latham.
Miss Sallie sat with her hands tightly clasped, scarcely daring to breathe. She had not dared to hope that her plan would work out so well.
“I do not know the lady,” said Naki sullenly. “But the young man was Reginald Latham. He was on the hill the day Eunice was hurt. He went with us to the Indian woman’s wigwam. She was angry at his coming.” Naki paused.
Mr. Winthrop Latham was frowning and looking down at the pattern of the carpet. Miss Stuart knew he realized that his sister and nephew were playing a double game which, for the time being, he preferred to ignore.
“Good-night, Miss Stuart,” said Mr. Latham, a few minutes later. “I shall join you in the morning. If the Indian woman is at Naki’s house, I will see her there; if not, I shall go to her wigwam. Notwithstanding all that has happened, she must have satisfactory proofs.”
Miss Stuart knew Mr. Latham now suspected that both his sister-in-law and nephew were convinced of Eunice’s identity.
“Naki,” Miss Sallie asked, “at daylight, to-morrow, will you go to the old squaw’s wigwam? Tell her that she shall not be punished,” continued Miss Stuart. “I am very sorry for her.”
Naki was looking at Miss Stuart. His solemn face expressed surprise. “Do you mean you have found out about Eunice?” he asked.
“Certainly, Naki,” Miss Stuart rejoined. “If you have known Eunice’s story, and have not told it before, you have behaved very badly. Tell the Indian woman to bring what proofs she has to convince Mr. Latham that little Eunice is the child of her daughter.”
“I will,” Naki promised. “But I knowed of Eunice in another way. There is a man in Stockbridge as knows who the child is. He was a preacher once. He is part Indian, part white. He was with Eunice’s mother when she died. She told him about the child, but begged him to keep it a secret. The Indian mother did not want the child to go back to the Lathams. She was afraid they would be unkind to her baby. The man told me the story several years ago.”
Miss Sallie was deeply interested. “Naki, when you bring the squaw to your house in the morning, go to Stockbridge. Then find the man who knows the story of Eunice, and bring him, too.”
“You can count on me,” were Naki’s last words.
The next morning Miss Stuart and Mr. Latham drove to Naki’s home. Neither Naki nor the Indian woman was there!
Naki had left for the wigwam before five o’clock that morning. It was now ten. There was nothing to do but wait.
At eleven o’clock Miss Sallie sent her telegram to Ruth. At noon she and Mr. Latham still waited. There was no sign of Naki or the squaw.
“Don’t you think we had better go up to the wigwam?” Mr. Latham asked impatiently.
“We cannot find our way there without Naki or one of my girls,” Miss Sallie answered.
“What do you think has happened?” Miss Stuart asked Ceally. Ceally shook her head.
“Something is the matter,” she declared, “or Naki would have been here with the old woman hours ago.”
What had become of Naki?
At daylight he reached the hilltop, but no sound of life came from the silent tent.
Naki called to the Indian squaw. There was no answer. “I come to bring you news of Eunice!” he shouted. Still no answer.
He stalked inside the wigwam. The tent was deserted. The Indian woman had disappeared.
Naki was puzzled. He searched the woods near the tent.
Half way down the hill Naki came across a small wooden box, half covered with leaves. Naki opened it. In it he found half a dozen pieces of old jewelry, and an old fashioned daguerreotype of an Indian girl holding a baby in her arms.
Naki had been born and brought up in the woods. He kept his eyes turned to the ground, thinking to trace the footprints of Mother Eunice down the hill. On her departure she had, as she thought, buried her box of treasures. Then she had gone—where?
Naki discovered, midway on the hill, two pairs of footprints, which seemed to indicate that two persons had lately started up the hill. But they must have given up and gone down again.
Naki made up his mind to go at once to Stockbridge. Even though he could not trace the squaw, the testimony of the man who had seen Eunice’s mother die, the box of jewelry Naki had found—these proofs of Eunice’s identity would convince even Mr. Winthrop Latham.
Miss Stuart and Mr. Latham were at luncheon when Ceally entered the room. Miss Sallie knew, at once, something had happened.
“What is it, Ceally?” she asked.
“They have come!” said Ceally.
“Who?” Mr. Latham demanded.
“Naki, the Indian woman, and another man,” was Ceally’s reply. There was a short pause, and then the two entered.
Naki spoke first. He explained that he had found the Indian woman at Stockbridge when he had given her up for lost. Then she told in her own way that she had made up her mind to return to Stockbridge and ask help from the man who, alone, knew the story of her grandchild’s parentage. The old squaw had completely broken down. She said that she knew that it was best for Eunice to be allowed to come into her inheritance. She said she remembered that Barbara had told her of Mrs. Latham and Reginald’s wish to keep Eunice concealed. She finished by telling that midway on the hill, in the early dawn, she had met Reginald Latham and his mother climbing up to her tent. The old squaw, who was wise, had told Mrs. Latham that there was one man in Stockbridge who could prove who Eunice was and that she would go and implore him to keep the child’s parentage a secret. Mrs. Latham and Reginald were delighted, and urged the old woman to go.
Mr. Latham listened quietly to Mother Eunice’s story and to that of the man from Stockbridge, who bore the old woman witness.
It was a simple story. The Indian grandmother thought her daughter had been unhappy because of her marriage into the Latham family, believing the girl had been persecuted because of her Indian blood. So she wished to spare her grandchild the same fate.
Mr. Latham was entirely convinced. Eunice was his niece.
“Come,” he said, finally, to Miss Stuart. “Let us be off to our girls!”
“Mother Eunice,” he said solemnly, shaking the old squaw’s hand, “I promise to be good to your child. You shall not be separated from her. But she must be educated as other girls are. Stay here with Ceally and Naki.”
The Indian woman bowed her head. She had given in forever when she surrendered Eunice to “The Automobile Girls” the afternoon before.
But what about Eunice and her protectors? They had not dared to leave the hotel for fear that Aunt Sallie and Mr. Latham might arrive in their absence.
So the girls were waiting with the best patience possible, curled up in the chairs and on the sofa. Barbara was reading aloud. Little Eunice had fallen fast asleep on the bed.
Suddenly Miss Sallie and Mr. Latham walked in unannounced.
“Well, this is a cosy party!” declared Mr. Latham, smiling.
Bab dropped her magazine, Ruth sat up straight in her chair, while Mollie and Grace nearly rolled off their sofa.
Their noise wakened Eunice, who sat up in bed with her cheeks flushed. Her black hair was massed about her face. She wore a red dressing gown that Ruth had bought for her the night before. She was so pretty that Mr. Latham was moved by her appearance.
But Eunice was frightened when she saw Mr. Latham—he was the man who had stared at her so strangely—he was the man who meant to steal her, so, at least, Reginald Latham had told Eunice. The little girl began to cry softly.
Mollie started up to go to Eunice, but she stopped at a frown from Miss Sallie. Mr. Latham was approaching Eunice.
“I am not going to hurt you, Eunice,” he declared. “Do I look like the bogie man, who lives in the woods and comes to steal away naughty children?”
Eunice shook her head. “There are no bogie men in the woods. Wood fairies are all good.”
“Well, I am no kind of fairy, Eunice. I am an uncle. Do you know what an uncle is?” Mr. Latham inquired.
Eunice shook her head again.
“O Eunice, an uncle can be the nicest person in the world!” Mollie exclaimed. “And that is what Mr. Latham is going to be to you. Kiss him, and tell him you mean to be good.”
Mr. Winthrop Latham and little Indian Eunice kissed each other shyly and solemnly. But in that kiss their affection was sealed.
What Reginald Latham and his mother thought of the discovery of the relationship between Eunice and Mr. Winthrop Latham may be easily imagined. Eunice as his niece would undoubtedly inherit a large portion of his fortune. And how was Reginald to be provided for? Bent on the effort to conceal the relationship, Reginald and his mother had started long before dawn to walk up to the grandmother’s hut, and, as the old squaw had explained, had met her on the side of the hill. They had tried to induce her to give them the name of the man in Stockbridge who knew of Eunice’s parentage, but the old woman was obdurate. Failing in this, mother and son had returned to their home.