Gloria and Treeless Street

by Annie Hamilton Donnell

Somehow the brightness had gone from the day—he knew not why. But it was gone. He turned toward Pleasant Street—Gloria's “Treeless Street”—but there was no whistle now upon his lips.

CHAPTER VII.

It was a white-faced girl that appeared before Walter McAndrew and his wife as they were seated at the dining-room table. Gloria had stood what seemed to her an age by the window in her room, looking down upon the card Dinney had left with her. At last she threw off her hat and jacket, and, turning, went below.

As Mr. McAndrew caught sight of the white, strained face of the girl he pushed back his chair and sprang to his feet.

“What is it?” he exclaimed.

But his wife gave one startled look and then bowed her head as though waiting for a storm to pass.

“I've found it out, Uncle Em!” said Gloria, in a voice that was not Gloria's. “Found out about Pleasant Street and No. 80.” Not a jot did her voice falter. She was looking straight into her guardian's eyes. “I don't suppose you could have helped it. It was my property and you kept it in trust. But—” There was a little wail, and the girl buried her face in her hands and burst into sobs.

“Gloria, don't!” begged Mr. McAndrew, while his wife let the tears of sympathy drip slowly from her face. “I could have helped it—I could have helped it! It is a miserably mean thing.” Mr. McAndrew was drawing his breath sharply. “As you say, the property was left in my trust for you by your father, but I had no need to turn it over to Richards. It should have been fixed up. It serves me right that this has come upon me.” It was the lawyer's voice that broke now.

Gloria raised her head and wiped her drenched face. To hear the words her uncle spoke was a relief to her. Still the fact remained. All she had thought to do toward righting a wrong of somebody's must be done to right a wrong that lay at her own door.

She tried to stand up bravely under it, this girl who had been sheltered and petted and cared for, but it was a hard task. And then there was the shock to all the dreams she had had of playing Lady Bountiful to another. For a few days she struggled and kept up, but a cold she had taken on the last day of her travel, aggravated by excitement, settled into a downright ailment. Very tenderly they coaxed her to stay within the blankets and among the soft pillows for the first few days, and then she stayed without coaxing. The District Nurse was at her side, and another was placed as substitute on her district.