Bertha Lebecke says she was born in Council Bluffs, Ia., in 1880. Save
for the trick of raising her brows while animated, thus wrinkling her
forehead before her time, she might pass easily for twenty-three years
of age. In these twenty-seven years, however, Bertha Lebecke has kept
the institutions of four states guessing--to some extent experimenting.
Her father was a cobbler, and there were five children, only one other
of them living. The father is dead. The mother, with the one sister,
is living in Council Bluffs. Seven asylums and one state's prison
have held her--for a time; Kankakee three times and Elgin twice, with
two escapes from each place credited to her childish cunning. But
today the face of Bertha Lebecke in trouble anywhere in Christian
civilization would draw helping funds for less than her asking.
"Don't write that I am the awful creature that the papers have
pictured me," she exclaimed, with a tragic movement of her little
hands. "Oh, I have been a bad girl--I know that--but not as bad as
they accuse me of being," burying her face in her arm.
But in a moment she was sitting up, dry eyed, stitching on the bit
of linen "drawn work" which she said was intended for Gov. Deneen at
Springfield.