My coming with the Bishop--we seemed to come together,anyway--made the people think he'd brought me,so I must be just all right.I had the man bring in the toys I'd got out in the carriage,and I handed them over to the matron,saying:
"They're for the children.I want them to have them all and now,please,to do whatever they want with them.There'll always be others.I'm going to send them right along,if you'll let me,so that those who leave can take something of their very own with them--something that never belonged to anybody else but just themselves,you understand.It's terrible,don't you know,to be a deserted child or a tortured child or a crippled child and have nothing to do but sit up in that bare,clean little room upstairs with a lot of other strangelings--and just think on the cruelty that's brought you here and the cruelty you may get into when you leave here.If I'd had a doll--if Mag had only had a set of dishes or a little tin kitchen--if the boy with the gouged eye could have had a set of tools--oh,can't you understand--"I became conscious then that the matron--a new one,Mag,ours is gone--was staring at me,and that the people stood around listening as though I'd gone mad.
Who came to my rescue?Why,the Bishop,like the manly little fellow he is.He forgave me even Beryl in that moment.
"It's Nance Olden,ladies,"he said,with a dignified little wave of his hand that served for an introduction."She begins her Philadelphia engagement to-night in And the Greatest of These."Oh,I'm used to it now,Maggie,but I do like it.All the lady-swells buzzed about me,and there Nance stood preening herself and crowing softly till--till from among the bunch of millinery one of them stepped up to me.She had a big smooth face with plenty of chins.Her hair was white and her nose was curved and she rustled in silk and--It was Mrs.Dowager Diamonds,alias Henrietta,alias Mrs.Edward Ramsay!
"Clever!My,how clever!"she exclaimed,as though the sob in my voice that I couldn't control had been a bit of acting.
She was feeling for her glasses.When she got them and hooked them on her nose and got a good look at me--why,she just dropped them with a smash upon the desk.
I looked for a minute from her to the Bishop.
"I remember you very well,Mrs.Ramsay.I hope you haven't forgotten me.I've often wanted to thank you for your kindness,"I said slowly,while she as slowly recovered."I think you'll be glad to know that I am thoroughly well-cured.Shall I tell Mrs.
Ramsay how,Bishop?"
I put it square up to him.And he met it like the little man he is--perhaps,too,my bit of charity to the Cruelty children had pleased him.
"I don't think it will be necessary,Miss Olden,"he said gently."I can do that for you at some future time."And I could have hugged him;but I didn't dare.
We had tea there in the Board rooms.Oh,Mag,remember how we used to peep into those awful,imposing Board rooms!Remember how strange and resentful you felt--like a poor little red-haired nigger up at the block--when you were brought in there to be shown to the woman who'd called to adopt you!
It was all so strange that I had to keep talking to keep from dreaming.I was talking away to the matron and the Bishop about the play-room I'm going to fit up out of that bare little place upstairs.Perhaps the same child doesn't stay there very long,but there'll always be children to fill it--more's the cruel pity!
Then the Bishop and I climbed up there to see it and plan about it.But I couldn't really see it,Mag,nor the poor,white-faced,wise-eyed little waifs that have succeeded us,for the tears in my eyes and the ache at my heart and the queer trick the place has of being peopled with you and me,and the boy with the gouged eye,and the cripple,and the rest.