CHAPTER XV

  DADDY SENDS A CLUE

  "Did you have a good time with Aunt Marcia, Chloe?"

  "Er-r--certainly, Mimi. Why do you ask?"

  "Nothing."

  Mimi blushed. She could not fib with a straight face. She edged aroundkeeping her back away from Chloe as she was clutching behind her aletter which had just come from Daddy. Perhaps it was the effect of theletter but it seemed to Mimi, Chloe had looked disturbed and palersince the holidays. In contrast to her wistful dark eyes, her skinseemed ivory white. The other girls had come back sparkling andglowing, telling and re-telling good times they experienced at home.Betsy was radiant. Sue was voluble. The first night she was back Mrs.Cole had had to rap sharply on the door of Tumble Inn to stop thetalking after light-bell. They hadn't given Chloe a chance to get aword in edge ways had she wanted it. Mimi had waited hopefully for theslightest word from her but none had come. She had to pull to get muchout of Chloe.

  "You didn't have an opportunity to ask AuntMarcia--anything--important?"

  "What could I ask, Mimi?" Chloe countered. "The once or twice I havebroached the topic Aunt Marcia has hedged or changed the subject. Shewas so kind Christmas and seemed so happy to have me with her. She mustbe awfully lonely, too, or she never would have adopted me. She triedto plan things I'd like but right in the middle of whatever we'd bedoing I'd think--you're not my Aunt, you're not even kin to me! Who areyou?"--Chloe was choking--"Who am _I_?"

  Mimi hugged Chloe close. Chloe did not shrink. She laid her beautiful,tired head against Mimi and sobbed.

  "You are somebody beautiful and sweet and lovely. We all love you, nomatter who your Mother and Father were."

  "I know they were fine, too, Mimi. But it's this awful suspense of notknowing. I might have brothers and sisters and pass right by them anyday and not know them. My mother must be tortured imagining horriblethings have happened to me. I'd--I'd rather--believe--she is dead thanthat she has worried about me all these years."

  The letter which Mimi had quickly thrust in her belt when she tookChloe in her arms, crackled as the two girls sat down on the bed. Boththe chairs and the vanity stool were piled up. Everything wastopsy-turvy in term-end confusion.

  Mimi was more upset than anything around her. The letter had broughther a spark of hope, so dim, so faint she dared not tell. Yet Chloeneeded to know so badly; which would be worse, to give her a ray ofhope that in all probability would be shattered or leave her as she waswithout anything to cling to? If she should tell Chloe she had toldDaddy, Chloe might not like it. She might not feel as Mimi did, thatany great secret could be shared with your parents without breakingyour promise. Mimi could keep secrets. She had struggled hard and wonto keep from telling Millie. She had never told Betsy about Madge andthe alarm bell. But Chloe was again sobbing softly against her. Shetrembled delicately as Pluto, the crow, had trembled in Mimi's handswhile Daddy patched his broken wing. Poor Chloe! A wounded dark birdsnatched from her nest before she could fly.

  "Would you know Fritzie if you saw him or saw a picture of him, Chloe?"

  She needed a more tangible clue. Something she could tell Daddydefinitely yes and no about.

  "I've often wondered. You see, it's been so very long ago. I was sotiny. I remember how I laughed at the pictures tattooed on his arms--alady on one and a sailor on the other. He'd hold them together and we'dplay they were dancing. He cackled instead of laughing. When I thinkback the only picture I have is that blurred one of my mother--hear herfrantic screams. Voices--I'd KNOW HIS VOICE, Mimi. I know I would."

  Encouraged by her decision Chloe continued.

  "When I get in college, I'm going to take psychology. I read it in thelibrary every chance I get now. When I am old enough to travel bymyself I'm going everywhere hunting places and faces that seemfamiliar. Oh, Mimi, I've thought about it so much! Maybe, some day,when I'm sure Fritzie and the short man and big old Freida are dead andcan't hurt us any more, I may write my story and have my picture madeand published."

  "When Fritzie is dead." Mimi repeated slowly. The words in Daddy'sletter danced before her eyes. Should she tell? Daddy had written atgreat length about Chloe's story.

  "Chloe, would you care if you knew that I had written my Daddy ALLabout you?" She didn't wait for a reply. "You see, I have, and I hopeyou won't think I've broken my word. I haven't told another living souland shan't. But Daddy is interested in your case and says he will help.The night you told us your story, I swore never to quit until we knewwho you really were but I didn't know where to start. That same night Iwrote Daddy. He can do anything. Already he is planning what to do andhow to do it."

  But Mimi quit there and kept the contents of the letter secret. Afterasking Chloe several pointed questions, the answers to which were notsatisfactory, she talked slowly toward the library to write Daddy inthe quiet where she could think clearly.

  As she passed College Hall the smell of black coffee came floating out.Cram week was causing a panic Ghostly figures with notebooks,unfinished themes, and reference books had been slipping through thecorridors after lights out. Laggards were drinking strong coffee nowtrying to keep awake long enough to learn a few more answers. The gymwas deserted except at class periods. Sue had cut practice hours twicein a row. Betsy was "boning" as she had never done before but theCollege girls were the busier.

  Let them slave Mimi thought. Thank goodness she had caught up withlessons while she was quarantined.

  She ignored the librarian as she entered. With a grand disregard forthe cramming going on all about her, Mimi unscrewed the top of herfountain pen. This letter to Daddy is far more important. It is themost important document I've ever written. I must think straight. Imust tell every little detail that might help, the tattooed figures,the cackling laugh. But first I must answer his questions.

  Unfolding the fat letter and rearranging the pages carefully so thatthe questions were on top, Mimi shook her pen twice and began to writefeverishly.

 
Anne Pence Davis's Novels