A Cry in the Wilderness

by Mary E. Waller

"Guess we won't lose track of one 'nother again, Marcia."

"Not if I can help it, Cale; it is n't my fault that we see each other for the first time in twenty-six years."

"So 't ain't, so 't ain't, poor little soul." I heard a catch in his voice, but I did not spare him.

"How old was I when you left home?"

"'Bout three months, if I remember right."

"Did you ever see me—then?"

"No."

"You did n't have any interest in me?"

"Not much, I 'll own up." Then he added weakly, for he wanted to spare me the truth by gently lying out of it, "I 've heard men don't take to new-born babies as women do; they 're kinder soft ter handle."

"And you saw me for the first time in my life at the steamboat landing?"