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Wright, Harold Bell, 1872-1944

"Helen of the Old House"


"Well, what do yer know about that?" whispered Bobby.
A moment longer they kept their places, whispering in consultation.
Then they rose quietly to their feet and, hand in hand, stood waiting.
Helen had not consciously followed the children. Indeed, her mind was
so occupied with her own troubled thoughts that she had forgotten the
little victims of her father's insane cruelty. To avoid meeting her
mother, as she fled from the scene of her father's madness, she had
taken a course that led her toward the entrance to the estate. With the
one thought of escaping from the invisible presence of that hidden
thing, she had left the grounds and followed the quiet old road.
When the storm of her grief had calmed a little, the young woman raised
her head and saw Sam Whaley's dirty, ill-kept children gazing at her
with wondering sympathy. It is not too much to say that Helen Ward was
more embarrassed than she would have been had she found herself thus
suddenly in the presence of royalty. "I am sorry you were frightened,"
she said, hesitatingly. "I can't believe that he really would have hurt
you."
"Huh," grunted Bobby. "I'm darned glad we was outside of that there
fence."
Maggie's big eyes were eloquent with compassion. "Did--did he scare
yer, too?"
Helen held back her tears with an effort.


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