PAGE FOUR
HIGH LIFE
THE GYPSY GIRL
“Stop quick, James!” Mr. Mour-
dant fairly yelled at his chauffeur.
James yanked on the breaks and
the big Locomobile limousine ab
ruptly came to a halt. The startled
chauffeur turned to see what his
employer wanted. To his great
surprise Mr. Mourdant was fumb
ling at the car door.
“Don’t stand there like an idiot!
Open this confounded door! he
snarled. “Don’t you see I’m in a
hurry? poor little girl.” his harsh
voice strangely softened as he said
the last words.
Poor James thought Mr. Mour
dant had gone crazy. As he threw
open the door he was nearly knock
ed down by the impatient old man,
who hurried down the road without
a word to him.
About a hundred yards back by
the side of the road, completely
covered with dust there appeared
to be a bundle of gaudy rags. The
keen eyes of John Mordant had
seen that it was a girl. His own
little girl had been gone nearly
fifteen years. Now he always help
ed poor girls he saw.
“What’s the matter, my child,
are you ” he broke off sharp
ly as he saw that the girl was much
older than he had at first thought.
Why she might even be twenty or
more. Perhaps she wouldn’t like
to be called “my child.”
The girl, seeing the old man’s
confusion, smiled wanly at him.
“Nothing, I’m just— I’m just tired.
I thought I could walk to Pikesville
by night and er—er— er have
time to earn something to eat be
fore dark. But I didn’t think it
was so far. I just stopped to rest
a minute.”
The old gentleman cleared his
throat a couple of times and finally
got out, “Well, I’m going through
Pikesville. If you would like to
ride, I have plenty of room.”
He waited anxiously for his an
swer. He wanted to see more of
this brave girl who was trying to
walk twenty miles before supper.
“I don’t know,” came slowly
from the tired girl. Then seeing
the hurt look on the old man’s
face. “I’d get your car so messed
up-
“That won’t matter,” he hastily
interrupted, “if that’s all that’s both
ering you, come on.
ering you, come on.”
“Alright,” she suddenly decided.
“I wouldn’t have time to get there
before dark if I walked.”
James scowled his disapproval as
his master helped the dusty, dirty
girl into the car. He hurriedly
tried to slip a rug over the seat,
thinking he would protect the lux
urious upholtsery.
“That’s all right, James, I’ll fix
the little girl,” came pleasantly
from Mr. Mourdant as he took the
rug away from James.
The car rushed on as night drew
nearer and nearer. For several
moments there was a deep silence
in the tourneant.
Finally Mr. Mourdant asked some
what testily “What do your people
mean to let you start out on such
r. inurnev ivhen it’s so near dark?”
• t have no people,” wistfully
re'’'>d the "irl. “Nobody cares
what T do.” She burst into a tor
rent cf tears.
“Bv Jove, look what I’ve started.”
muttered the man. He patted her
shoulder gently “There, there, don’t
cry. Nothing's worth so many
precious tears. Come, child, tell me
the trouble. Perhaps I can help.”
“No no.” sobbed the girl, “no-
bodv can help.”
“Well, tell me any way. A
trouble shared is only a half
trouble after all. Ah! that’s it,’
as she tried to stop crying, “Tell
me. It’ll do you good to talk
about it.”
“Well, you see I always thought
I was a gypsy. I often wondered
why Mag treated me so bad, but
I thought maybe it was because I
lost her rabbit foot. Anyway she
got mad yesterday and said that I
was only an alley waif, that she’d
adopted me out of the kindness of
her heart. She said I’d have to
get out of the camp and look after
myself now. I can cook and I
thought maybe I could get a job
at Pikesville, “She paused a mo
ment and big brown eyes looked
pleadingly at him. “Do you think
I can?”
“We’ll see! We’ll see! perhaps
you can. What’s your name?”
“I—don’t—know,” the halting
words were so slow that he scarcely
heard them. “Mag always called
me Liza Jane, but I know most
that’s not my name. Oh— I know
it’s not. Nobody with a face like
this would name a little baby
Liza Jane.” She fumbled in the
pocket of her calico skirt and
produced an old fashioned locket
set in pearls.
Mourdant started as if he had
seen a ghost. Surely there was but
one locket in all the world like
that! How well he remembered that
day long ago when he and his
young wife had bought a locket for
little Dorothy. He could hear,
her say, “I’ll put my picture
in it so she’ll have her mother‘s
picture when she gi'ows up.” How
the wee Dorothy had played with
the shining bauble! The very next
day she had run away from her
nurse and had never been seen
since! In spite of all money and
the best detective could do, the
little girl had not been found. His
wife had died soon after. What a
difference a daughter would have
made in his dreary home! How
long it had been since then. Some
thing splashed down on his glove.
A tear!
He looked hastily around to see
if the girl had noticed. She was
trying to open the locket.
“I opened it the other day but
it won’t open now,” she put it into
his hand saying eagerly “Maybe
you can open it.”
His hand trembled as he took
it. His daughter would have been
about this size if she were alive.
Suppose, just suppose this was she!
“Where did you get this ” his
voice sounded queer to his own
ears.
The girl looked at him in wonder.
“Why Mag has kept it for me a
long time. She said I had it on
when she found me. If it were
only my mother’s picture!” she
choked and then went on eagerly
“Do you think it could be? I look
a little like that, only not half
as pretty.”
He at last got the locket open.
His wife smiled gayly up at him!
He looked again at the waif.
Now he saw a slight resemblance.
The same big brown eyes, the same
curly hair only this hair was red
while his wife’s had been brown,
the same saucy, turned-up nose: Of
course this was Dorothy!
“At last,” he cried, “after all
th-se long years—
She looked at him wonderingly.
What could be the matter? he
looked so strange!
“Of course, dear, you don’t un
derstand.” he said huskily, “T sup
pose I’d better explain.”
And then stumblinc: a little as h-^
reviewed his lonelv, grief-stricken
life, he told her of the little Dor
othy he had lost and that he be
lieved she was that Dorothy.
The girl’s eyes were wet when he
finished. “If I only were! How
wonderful it would be to have a
father who really cared!”
“Of course you are! No one else
could have that hair, eyes, and
nose. What did you say?”
“But suppose I’m not. Think
what your real daughter would be
missing! Isn’t there some way to
find out?”
“We’ll find Mag, as you call her,
she’ll know the truth. When can
we find her?”
“The camp is way back the way
w'e came. I think I could find it.”
“James, go back the way we came.
I want to find the Gypsy camp,”
he spoke hastily into the tube.
“Yes, sir,” came promptly from
James.
In a twinkling the car was turn
ed about and shot down the other
way. They twisted about country
lanse, mired up to the hub in many
places.
“There it is! There it is! “ex
claimed the eager Dorothy (?)!
“There’s Mag, too!”
A fat, dirty, mean looking, old
woman stood with folded arms
looking at the car. In answer to
Mordaunt’s eager questions, she
steadily replied that she knew noth-
“Offer her money,” whispered his
companion, “she’d sell her soul for
a little money.”
Finally for five hundred dollars
the old hag told how she had found
the child wandering around in the
park lost. She had intended to hold
her for ransom, but the detectives
had been too close and dared not.
Therefore she had kept the girl.
Six Months Later
A beautiful young girl, dressed in
the height of style came slowlv
down the steps of a big house on
H— St.
“Who is that?” whispered a
passing old woman to her compan
ion.
“Why that’s Dorothy Mordaunt,
Haven’t you heard about her? It’s
really quite a romantic story. Her
father spoils her to death, they
say. Well, he ought to I think, she
had such a hard life when she was
a little girl.”
—Bessie Watson.
PARENT-TEACHERS’ CLUB
(Continued from page 1)
ship. John Sykes continued the
discussion, setting forth the pos-
•sibilities of its being a medium
between the school and the town,
by boosting the many activities
of the various organizations of the
city. Especially would this prove
beneficial in athletics.
Miss Elliott, of North Carolina
College, in concluding the dis
cussion, said making a citizen is
developing a point of view. and.
in contrasting the child move
ment of Germany with that of
the City of Mexico, the former
being a case of misdirected or
rather non-directed energy, the
latter directed, she showed the
danger that lies in the home fail
ing to cultivate the studying and
thinking habit.
During the course of the meet
ing. Norman Block made an
earnest appeal to the parents, to
patronize the school athleucr.
assuring them that, while the
.noney would be acceptable, the
students wanted them rather in
the spirit of encouragement than
or whatever financial aid they
might be. offering them compli
mentary tickets io\ the coming
North Carolina College for Women
An A-1 Gfrade College Maintained by North Car
olina for the Education of the Women of the State
The institution includes the following divisions:
1st—The College of Liberal Arts and Sciences, which is com
posed of:
(a) The Faculty of Languages.
(b) The Faculty of Mathematics and Sciences.
(c) The Faculty of the Social Sciences.
2nd—The School of Education.
3rd—The School of Home Economics.
4th—The School of Music.
The equipment is modern in every respect, including furnished
dormitories, library, laboratories, literary society halls, gymna
sium, athletic grounds, Teacher Training School, music rooms,
The first semester begins in September, the second semester in
February, and the summer term in June. For catalogue and other
information, address
J. I. FOUST, President, GREENSBORO, N. C.
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s ^ Corner East Market and Davie Plione 2913
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R. H. Milton Electric Co.
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Phone 647
games. '
In an effort to raise money for
the treasury, the ladies hit upon
a most happy scheme, deciding to
>ave all papers, magazines and
pasteboard boxes for one month
■and to sell some to the Anderson
Container company. Many motb'
ers volunteered to ;solicit
neighborhoods for this work
After a most delightful
hour at the ,,cafeteria, enjoyiHa
social intrecourse around the tea*
cup, the assemblv disbanded. '|
Si