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 around
keeping her back away from Chloe as she was clutching behind her a
letter which had just come from Daddy. Perhaps it was the effect of the
letter but it seemed to Mimi, Chloe had looked disturbed and paler
since the holidays. In contrast to her wistful dark eyes, her skin
seemed ivory white. The other girls had come back sparkling and
glowing, 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 the
talking after light-bell. They hadn't given Chloe a chance to get a
word in edge ways had she wanted it. Mimi had waited hopefully for the
slightest word from her but none had come. She had to pull to get much
out of Chloe.
"You didn't have an opportunity to ask Aunt
Marcia--anything--important?"
"What could I ask, Mimi?" Chloe countered. "The once or twice I have
broached the topic Aunt Marcia has hedged or changed the subject. She
was so kind Christmas and seemed so happy to have me with her. She must
be awfully lonely, too, or she never would have adopted me. She tried
to plan things I'd like but right in the middle of whatever we'd be
doing I'd think--you're not my Aunt, you're not even kin to me! Who are
you?"--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, no
matter who your Mother and Father were."
"I know they were fine, too, Mimi. But it's this awful suspense of not
knowing. I might have brothers and sisters and pass right by them any
day and not know them. My mother must be tortured imagining horrible
things have happened to me. I'd--I'd rather--believe--she is dead than
that she has worried about me all these years."
The letter which Mimi had quickly thrust in her belt when she took
Chloe in her arms, crackled as the two girls sat down on the bed. Both
the chairs and the vanity stool were piled up. Everything was
topsy-turvy in term-end confusion.
Mimi was more upset than anything around her. The letter had brought
her a spark of hope, so dim, so faint she dared not tell. Yet Chloe
needed to know so badly; which would be worse, to give her a ray of
hope that in all probability would be shattered or leave her as she was
without anything to cling to? If she should tell Chloe she had told
Daddy, Chloe might not like it. She might not feel as Mimi did, that
any great secret could be shared with your parents without breaking
your promise. Mimi could keep secrets. She had struggled hard and won
to keep from telling Millie. She had never told Betsy about Madge and
the alarm bell. But Chloe was again sobbing softly against her. She
trembled delicately as Pluto, the crow, had trembled in Mimi's hands
while Daddy patched his broken wing. Poor Chloe! A wounded dark bird
snatched 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 Daddy
definitely yes and no about.
"I've often wondered. You see, it's been so very long ago. I was so
tiny. I remember how I laughed at the pictures tattooed on his arms--a
lady on one and a sailor on the other. He'd hold them together and we'd
play they were dancing. He cackled instead of laughing. When I think
back the only picture I have is that blurred one of my mother--hear her
frantic 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 the
library every chance I get now. When I am old enough to travel by
myself I'm going everywhere hunting places and faces that seem
familiar. 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 and
can't hurt us any more, I may write my story and have my picture made
and published."
"When Fritzie is dead." Mimi repeated slowly. The words in Daddy's
letter danced before her eyes. Should she tell? Daddy had written at
great length about Chloe's story.
"Chloe, would you care if you knew that I had written my Daddy ALL
about you?" She didn't wait for a reply. "You see, I have, and I hope
you won't think I've broken my word. I haven't told another living soul
and 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 knew
who you really were but I didn't know where to start. That same night I
wrote Daddy. He can do anything. Already he is planning what to do and
how to do it."
But Mimi quit there and kept the contents of the letter secret. After
asking Chloe several pointed questions, the answers to which were not
satisfactory, she talked slowly toward the library to write Daddy in
the 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 the
corridors after lights out. Laggards were drinking strong coffee now
trying to keep awake long enough to learn a few more answers. The gym
was deserted except at class periods. Sue had cut practice hours twice
in a row. Betsy was "boning" as she had never done before but the
College girls were the busier.
Let them slave Mimi thought. Thank goodness she had caught up with
lessons while she was quarantined.
She ignored the librarian as she entered. With a grand disregard for
the cramming going on all about her, Mimi unscrewed the top of her
fountain pen. This letter to Daddy is far more important. It is the
most important document I've ever written. I must think straight. I
must 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 that
the questions were on top, Mimi shook her pen twice and began to write
feverishly.