As the summer progressed, the girls had more than one conference as to what was to become of Ophelia when they left Onoway House. To let her go back to her life in the slums was unthinkable. So far, Old Grady had made no effort to get her back, possibly for the simple reason that she did not know where the child was. They did not even know whether or not she had a legal claim on Ophelia. All Ophelia knew about the business was that Old Grady had taken her from the orphan asylum when she was seven years old. Where she had lived before she went to the orphan asylum she could not remember, so she must have been very young when she came there. They were equally unwilling that she should return to the asylum.
“If we could only find someone to adopt her,” said Hinpoha. That would be the best thing, they all agreed, although there was a lingering doubt in the mind of each one as to whether anyone would want to adopt Ophelia. Grammar was to her a totally unnecessary accomplishment, and the amount of slang she knew was unending. By dint of hard labor they had succeeded in making her say “you” instead of “yer,” and “to” instead of “ter,” and discard some of her more violent slang phrases, but she was still obviously a child of the streets and the tenement, and that life had left its brand upon her. It showed itself constantly in her speech. They had better success in teaching her table manners, for with a child’s gift of imitation she soon fell into the ways of those around her.
But having had so much excitement in her short life she still pined for it. While the life in the country was pleasant in the extreme it was far too quiet to suit her and she longed to be back in the crowded tenement where there was something happening every hour out of the twenty-four; where people woke to life instead of going to bed when darkness fell and the lamps were lighted; where street cars clanged and wagons rattled and fire engines rumbled by; where the harsh voices of newsboys rang out above the loud conversation of the women on the doorsteps and the wailing of the babies. The zigging of the grasshoppers and the swishing of the wind in the Balm of Gilead tree and the murmur of the river had for her a mournful and desolate sound, and she often covered up her ears so as not to hear it. When she first came to Onoway House she was so interested in the new life that it kept her busy all day long finding out new things; but gradually the novelty wore off. At first she had been as mischievous as a monkey; always up to some prank or other. She teased Tom and was teased by him in return; she put burrs in Mr. Bob’s long ears; she climbed trees and threw things down on the heads of unsuspecting persons underneath; she startled the girls out of their wits by lying unseen under the couch in the sitting-room and grabbing their ankles unexpectedly. Always she was doing something, and always merry and full of life; so that she made the girls feel that they had done a fine thing by bringing her to Onoway House.
But of late a change had come over her. She began to droop, and to sit silent by herself at times. The girls did their best to keep her amused, but they were very busy with the continual canning, and Betty, who had more time than the others, did not like her and would not play with her. So she grew more and more homesick for the big, noisy city and the playmates of other days. Then had come the time when she was so sunburned and she had developed the fondness for Sahwah. After that she was less lonesome, for Sahwah was such a lively person to be attached to that one had always to be on the lookout for surprises. Sahwah taught her to swim and dive and ride a bicycle; she had the boys make a swing for her under the big tree, and Ophelia blossomed once more into happiness. At Sahwah’s instigation she played more tricks on the other girls than before.
But Ophelia was a shrewd little person, and she knew that the summer would come to a close and the girls would not live together any more. She often heard them discussing their plans. What was to become of her then? The happy family life at Onoway House stirred in her a desire to have a home too, and a mother of her own. She began to grow wistful again and at times her eyes would have a strange far-away look. The scandals of the streets which were once the breath of life to her and which she repeated with such relish, began to lose their charm, and she developed a taste for fairy tales. “Tell me the story about the fairy godmother,” she would say to Sahwah, and would listen attentively to the end. “Are you sure I’ve got one somewhere?” she would ask eagerly.
“You surely have,” Sahwah would answer, to satisfy her.
And then, “What are we going to do with Ophelia when the summer is over?” Sahwah would ask the girls after Ophelia was in bed. And Hinpoha would think of Aunt Phœbe and knew she would never adopt such a child as Ophelia was; and Migwan knew that it would be out of the question in her family; and Sahwah knew that her mother would not let her come and live with them; and Gladys thought of her delicate mother and sighed. Nyoda could not make a home for her, because she had none of her own and a boarding house was no place for a child.
“It’s a shame,” Sahwah would declare vehemently, “that there aren’t fathers and mothers enough in this world to go round. Here’s Ophelia will have to go into an institution more than likely, and grow up without any especial interest being taken in her, while we have had so much done for us. It isn’t fair.”
“There’s something curious about Ophelia,” said Gladys, musingly. “While she came from the tenements and is as wild and untrained as any little street gamin, she has the appearance of a child of a much higher class. Have you ever noticed how small and perfect her hands and feet are? And what beautiful almond shaped fingernails she has? And what delicate features? Have you seen how erectly she carries herself, and how graceful she is when she dances? In spite of her name, I don’t believe she is Irish; and I don’t think her people could have been low class. There’s an indefinable something about her which spells quality.”
“Probably a princess in disguise,” said Sahwah, in a tone of amusement. “Leave it to Gladys to scent ‘quality.’”