Arabella | Page 7

your affairs."
"I know, I know, dear," Alicia answered, "it was hard. But what about the child?"
And the little woman hastily dried the tears which she saw were aggravating to her sister, while Mrs. Christie, momentarily ignoring the question, continued her self-justification.
"I ain't goin' to say nothin' about the daily nag, nag, that went on for close upon seven years, until I stopped my church-going 'most altogether. When there was talk about adoptin' a child, the Sisters, as I told you, insisted that it must be a Catholic, and I insisted, too. I jest kicked up my heels and fought it right out with Silas. 'Silas,' says I to him, 'if that baby girl comes to this house it's got to be a Catholic, and a good one, too; not the sort that you've made of me.'"
"And then?" inquired Alicia.
"I told him right off that if ever he went for to interfere with Arabella's religion, why that minute I'd take her back to the Sisters. Well, Silas is the sort of man, if once he agrees to anything it's all right. I can trust him. So I've done my best with the girl, and I sent her to a Catholic school, though it's a poor one, where she can't get much schooling. It's jest kept by an old woman in the village. And I sent her to church and Sunday school right straight along."
Alicia grasped her hand.
"That was so good of you, dear," she whispered. "You kept the jewel of her faith bright, anyway."
"Yes, and Arabella, she's a Catholic all right enough. She loves her church, and she can talk about it like a book, once she gets started."
Alicia was delighted with this intelligence for she had known very well that her sister's Catholicity had wavered and grown dim in the years of her married life. She herself was staunch in the faith, and had striven hard to instill it into those pupils who were put into her charge in a neighboring parochial school. Just as she had retained a greater refinement of speech and manner than her sister, so had she practised in her daily existence the teaching of the Sisters. She was, therefore, very much pleased to hear that the poor little waif whom the Christies had adopted had been brought up, as far as possible, a child of the church. She did not, however, insist further just then upon the subject of religion, but began to ask if any further information had ever been received about Arabella's parentage.
"Why, to be sure," answered Mrs. Christie, "and that's jest what brought me to town."

CHAPTER V.
ARABELLA OVERHEARS
Alicia's eyes were aglow with interest. Their expression said more than a whole volley of questions, while Mrs. Christie, settling herself more comfortably in her chair, pursued her narrative.
"Well, everything went on jest the same till a a week ago Tuesday. Then, jest as I was fussin' round with a squash pie I was gettin' into the oven, in comes a little man, sort of smart and dapper lookin'."
Alicia waited breathlessly.
"He walked right into the kitchen, where I was standin' with my hands in the flour, and he began to talk about Arabella. He beat around the bush some, and seemed as if he warn't too anxious to come out with what he had to say, until I up and told him to speak right out. He asked me Arabella's name. 'Christie,' says I. 'She ain't your daughter,' says he. 'No,' says I, 'she ain't.' 'And,' says he, 'her name ain't Christie.'"
"'She hain't got any other that I know of,' says I. 'We're comin' to that,' says he.
"Well, do you know that I felt kind of squeamish when he said them words, for the girl's a good girl, as girls go, and we've got used to her."
Alicia nodded, her eyes full of tears.
"'You got her,' said he, reading out of a notebook which he took from his pocket, 'on the 29th day of October, 18-- , from Sister Mary Peter.'
"Well, I had to own up that we did, and the fellow went on reading. He said that they'd got there a description of the clothing that had come with the child, and which were in my keeping except one or two things that the Sisters had kept for the purpose of identifyin' her. When he asked me if I had got them clothes, I made answer that I had them that didn't wear out in the natural course of things. He asked then, cautious like, if I'd got any bit of jewelry, and after hemmin' and hawin' a little I owned that I'd a locket. He wanted to know if there were any marks on it, and at last I told him that there were three, A. R. A., which made me call the girl