Part 25 (1/2)

”This child,” went on the agent, ”is a cripple”--again Cecilia wanted to shout--”and mentally deficient.”

”That is false!” cried Mrs. Salvey. ”She is mentally brilliant.”

”One minute, madam,” said the judge gently.

”To prove that the child has hallucinations,” pursued the man, reading from his papers, ”I would like to state that for some years she has kept a book--called a promise book. In this she collected the names of all the persons she could induce to put them down, claiming that when the right person should sign she would recover some old, imaginary piece of furniture, which, she claimed, held the spirit of her departed grandfather.”

The man stopped to smile at his own wit. Cecilia and Mrs. Salvey were too surprised to breathe--they both wanted to ”swallow” every breath of air in the room at one gulp.

”And the specific charge?” asked the judge, showing some impatience.

”Well, your honor, we contend that a mother who will wilfully take such a child away from medical care, and hide her away from those who are qualified to care for her, must be criminally negligent.”

The judge raised his head in that careful manner characteristic of serious thought.

”And what do you ask?” he inquired.

Cecilia thought she or Mrs. Salvey would never get a chance to speak--to deny those dreadful accusations.

”We ask, your honor,” and the man's voice betrayed confidence, ”that this child be turned over to the Children's Society. We will report to the court, and make any desired arrangements to satisfy the mother.”

Turn Wren over to a public society! This, then, was the motive--those Rolands wanted to get the little one away from her own mother.

”Mrs. Salvey,” called the judge, and the white-faced woman stood up.

As she did so, Mr. Reed, the lawyer, advanced to a seat quite close to that occupied by the judge. Rob Roland s.h.i.+fted about with poorly--hidden anxiety.

”You have heard the charge,” said the judge very slowly. ”We will be pleased to hear your answer.”

”One minute, your honor,” interrupted Lawyer Reed. ”We wish to add that on the day that our doctor had decided upon a hospital operation for the child, the child was secretly smuggled off in an automobile by a young girl, and a young sporting character of this town.”

Had Cecilia Thayer ever been in a courtroom before, she might have known that lawyers resort to all sorts of tricks to confuse and even anger witnesses. But, as it was, she only felt that something had hit her--a blow that strikes the heart and threatens some dreadful thing.

The next moment the blood rushed to her cheeks, relieved that pressure, and she was ready--even for such an insulting charge.

Mrs. Salvey was again called, and this time she was not interrupted.

She told in a straight-forward manner of the illness of her little girl, of her own difficulty in obtaining sufficient money to have the child treated medically, and of how her husband's cousin, Wilbur Roland, senior member of the firm of Roland, Reed & Company, had come forward and offered her a.s.sistance.

”Then why,” asked the judge, ”did you take the child away?”

Mrs. Salvey looked at Cecilia. Lawyer Reed was on his feet and ready to interrupt, but the judge motioned him to silence.

”I took her away because I feared the treatment was not what she needed, and I had others offered,” replied Mrs. Salvey.

”Other medical treatment?” asked the judge.

”Yes,” answered the mother.

”Then she is being cared for?” and judge Cowles looked sharply at the children's agent.

”Most decidedly,” answered Mrs. Salvey with emphasis. ”And not only is she better, but can now stand--she has not been able to do that in ten years.”