"But think how frightened your friend must have been when the train started and you didn't come back," said Marjorie, reproachfully. She did not know quite what to make of this singular young person, who appeared to think nothing of deserting her friends, and wandering off by herself on the prairie.
"Mrs. Hicks isn't my friend, and she won't care, anyway; she'll be glad to get rid of me. I heard her telling a woman on the train that I was an awful nuisance, and she couldn't think why she had ever promised her sister to take me to Kansas with her. She doesn't want me—nobody wants me, nobody in the whole world!" And suddenly this extraordinary visitor put both hands before her face, and burst into tears.
Marjorie sprang to her feet, wide awake at last. She had not seen many people cry, and the sight always affected her deeply.
"Oh, don't, please don't!" she cried, and almost without realizing what she was doing she had slipped an arm about the shaking shoulders. "We'll take care of you, of course we will, and you can tell us about everything. Oh, please do stop crying; you make me so very uncomfortable."
But the brown-eyed girl did not stop crying. On the contrary, she cried all the harder, and buried her face on Marjorie's shoulder.
"You're kind, oh, you're kind!" sobbed the poor child, clinging convulsively to her new friend. "Nobody was ever kind to me before except old Mr. Jackson, and now he's dead. I've been so miserable, and it's so dreadful not to remember anything, not even my name."
"Your name?" repeated Marjorie stupidly; "do you mean you don't even know your own name?"
The stranger shook her head mournfully as she searched for a missing pocket-handkerchief. Marjorie supplied the handkerchief from her own pocket, and sympathetically wiped her visitor's eyes.
"But I don't understand," she said doubtfully; "I never heard of a person's not knowing her own name. Haven't you any relatives?"
"I suppose I had once, but I can't remember them. The first thing I remember is waking up in a hospital. It was just after the earthquake in San Francisco, and they told me I was found in the street under some ruins. They thought a stone or something must have fallen on my head, and that was what made me forget everything. Nobody knew whom I belonged to, and I had only a nightgown on when I was found, so they couldn't trace me by my clothes. At first the doctors thought I would remember soon, and they used to ask me questions, but I never could answer any of them. They kept me at the hospital a long time, but I was always frightened because I couldn't remember anything. At last when I was strong again, and nobody came to look for me, they said they couldn't keep me there any longer. They sent me to the 'Home For The Friendless in Oakland,' but I had only been there a week when Miss Brent came to look for a girl to run errands, and carry home parcels. They told her about me, and she said she would take me, because I might have rich friends, who would come for me, and pay her well for taking care of me. So I went to live with her, and she put an advertisement about me in the newspapers. For a long time I kept hoping some one would come for me, but nobody ever did. Miss Brent was a dressmaker, and she had a lot of girls working for her, but I didn't like any of them, they were so rough, and they used to laugh at me, and call me 'loony.' Miss Brent called me Sally, but I know that isn't my real name. I got so tired running errands, and carrying the heavy boxes home made my back ache. I don't think I could have stood it if it hadn't been for Mr. Jackson. He boarded with Miss Brent, and lived in a little room on the top floor. He was very old, and nobody paid much attention to him, but I was sorry for him, and I used to carry up his meals, and he talked to me so kindly. He never made fun of me, because I couldn't remember, but he lent me books to read, and asked me questions like the doctors at the hospital. It's very queer, but I could always remember how to read. I can write, too, and I can even remember things in history, but I can't remember a single thing about myself. Mr. Jackson said he was sure my memory would come back some day, and then I would be able to find my friends. He died last winter, and after that it was dreadful. Miss Brent was always busy and cross, and the girls were worse than ever. A month ago Miss Brent told us she was going to be married, and give up the business, and that all the girls would have to leave. Most of them didn't mind, because they had homes, but Miss Brent said she didn't know what in the world to do with me. She didn't think any one would take me, because I wasn't strong enough to do hard work, and she was afraid I was too old to go back to the 'Home For The Friendless.'