"Just about nineteen years ago a Frenchwoman, giving her name as Madame

Dubois, arrived one day with a child a year old and asked the nuns to

take care of it, promising a fancy payment. The child had been on a farm

with a wet-nurse (French style), but Madame Dubois wanted it to learn

from the first to speak proper English and French, and to live in a

refined atmosphere generally from the time it was able to take notice.

She said she was on the stage and had to travel, so was not able to give

the kid the attention it should have, and the doctor had told her that

traveling was bad for kids that age, anyhow. Her lawyers would pay the

baby's board on the first of every month--"

"Who were the lawyers?"

"Lawton and Cross."

"I thought so. Go on."

"The nuns, who, after all, knew their California, thought they smelt a

rat, for the woman was extraordinarily handsome, magnificently dressed;

the Mother Superior--who is a woman of the world, all right--read the

newspapers, and had never seen the name of Dubois--and knew that only

stars drew fat salaries. She asked some sharp questions about the father,

and the woman replied readily that he was a scientific man, an inventor,

and--well, it was natural, was it not? they did not get on very well. He

disliked the stage, but she had been on it before she married him, and

dullness and want of money for her own needs and her child's had driven

her back. He had lived in Los Angeles for a time, but had recently gone

East to take a high-salaried position. It was with his consent that she

asked the nuns to take the child--possibly for two or three years. When

she was a famous actress and could leave the road, she would keep house

for her husband in New York, and make a home for the child.

"The Mother Superior, by this time, had made up her mind that the father

wished the child removed from the mother's influence, and although she

took the whole yarn with a bag of salt, the child was the most beautiful

she had ever seen, and obviously healthy and amiable. Moreover, the

convent was to receive two hundred dollars a month--"

"What?"

"Exactly. Can you beat it? The Mother Superior made up her mind it was

her duty to bring up the little thing in the way it should go. As the

woman was leaving she said something about a possible reconciliation with

her family, who lived in France; they had not written her since she went

on the stage. They were of a respectability!--of the old tradition! But

if they came round she might take the child to them, if her husband would

consent. She should like it to be brought up in France-"Here the Mother Superior interrupted her sharply. Was her husband a

Frenchman? And she answered, no doubt before she thought, for these

people always forget something, that no, he was an American--her family,

also, detested Americans. The Mother Superior once more interrupted her

glibness. How, then, did he have a French name? Oh, but that was her

stage name--she always went by it and had given it without thinking. What

was her husband's name? After a second's hesitation she stupidly give the

name Smith. I can see the mouth of the Mother Superior as it set in a

grim line. 'Very well,' said she, 'the child's name is Helene Smith'; and

although the woman made a wry face she was forced to submit.




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