She said plaintively:
“I’m a lone widow with a sick daughter and no support but my needle, but, of course, I cannot turn John’s children out into the cold world. I’ll take Mark and Willie and do the best I can by them, but as for Jessie, she is old enough to go out and work for herself. Besides, she has no claim on me, as she was not my brother’s child!”
“Not papa’s child!” almost shrieked Jessie, in her astonishment, and Mrs. Godfrey, looking ready to faint under the burden of her new responsibilities, replied:
“No, you were only the niece of my brother’s wife, though she brought you up as her own child, and loved you just as well.”
Mrs. Ryan questioned eagerly:
“Are Jessie’s own parents living?”
“The Lord only knows,” was the answer, and, seeing the anxiety on their faces, Mrs. Godfrey continued:
“You see, it was this way: Jessie’s father and mother were divorced when they hadn’t been married more than seven months or so, and afterward their child was born, and when it was a few years old the father in a fit of rage stole Jessie away from her mother and brought her to his sister to raise as her own. He went away and for years sent money liberally to keep and educate the child, but at last letters and money both stopped suddenly, and ’twas supposed he was dead. The Lyndons kept Jessie all the same, and did the best they could, but misfortunes began to come and death followed—so everything came to this pass. I’ll say it for Jess, she’s a good child, but I’m too poor to keep her, so she will have to look for a situation.”
“I’ve heard of one already, so I will take her back and try to get it for her. Bid your little brothers good-by, dear,” said Mrs. Ryan gently, in her pity for the forlorn girl, who now turned to Mrs. Godfrey, faltering:
“Maybe you can tell me where to find my mother?”