“Lots and lots of times. Somehow the Orphanage seemed a place where I was staying for just a little while—until somebody I belonged to came after me.”
“I’m so glad you’re not—like—the other Orphanage children, dear. I thought in some ways you might be. But—you don’t know—how pleased—I am!”
“I’m just me,” the princess affirmed. “And it seems like—coming home!”
The mother bathed and dressed the child, calling a servant to carry away the Orphanage clothes. But if Mrs. Theddon had been pleasantly surprised thus far, it was nothing to her overpowering satisfaction when she beheld her little ward clothed in the habilaments better befitting her character.
“You’re wonderful, girlie mine!” the woman whispered, as she surveyed the transformation.
“And I think you’re wonderful, too,” the child answered.
And yet, twenty-four hours later, a gray Sunday twilight, Mrs. Theddon entered her chamber to discover the child huddled in a window-chair, sobbing convulsively.
“What’s the matter, darling?” cried the shocked woman. “Aren’t you happy?”
The princess sought frantically to hide her tears.
“Yes’m—I’m happy—so happy it hurts. Yet—well, I guess I miss the orphans already!”