It came the next morning while Arma was concocting a tapioca pudding—one
of Sam’s favorites. There was a ring at the front door and a
well-dressed lady entered and asked: “Does Samuel Jones live here?”
“Yes,” said Arma.
“Are you the little girl they found in their auto?”
“Yes,” said Arma, wonderingly.
“Then I am your mother.”
“Why did you give me away?”
“Your father deserted me and I was penniless. I have been poor ever
since until quite recently, too poor to claim you. An uncle in
California died last month and left me his money. I have been out
settling his estate and I am just back. I want you to go with me.”
“No,” said Arma, “I cannot go with you but I can see you very often, and
I am so glad I have a mother to love.” Then they fell into each others
arms in tears.
When Arma told her story at lunch the others gasped. She continued: “I
think I must go to her.” Then Sam gasped: “My God! I’ll be all alone.
Get her to come here, Arma, I can’t bear to have you go.”
Now wasn’t Arma a sly puss? And she did not go, Sam went to her. He told
her how much he loved her. She listened sagely and said: “yes, she liked
him pretty well. She thought she might like to stay with him.” And she
did. And after awhile Sam discovered that she had been madly in love
with him all the time—but he did not discover this for a long time, she
was a woman and did not tell all she knew for awhile. She grew more fond
of Sam every day and now she tells him everything—almost.
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