The girl was pretty, and apparently a lady. when I was five. Marriage!—and no woman by to tell the child what it was! The shocks and disillusions she would have to meet unsuspectingly—and bitterly. The mother, Cathy Beck, was as patient and as charitable of an individual that Lucy had ever known, a big kindly Polish-American woman with the heart of an angel. " "Have you told him so?" she inquired, reproachfully. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. “Want to see the upstairs?” “Sure. You'll have it down.
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