Adele Doring of the Sunnyside Club

The board of directors met at the appointed hour, and as soon as the regular business was disposed of, Mrs. Friend told the story of Mrs. Green’s visit, and ended by asking permission to refuse to permit Eva to leave the orphanage.

The matter was discussed, but it was finally decided that it would be very unwise to offend so wealthy a possible patron as Mrs. Cyrus Green. “Let the child go for a while,” said one, “and perhaps later a way will be found to recall her.”

And with that decision Mrs. Friend had to be content. Late that afternoon, as Eva and Amanda were walking arm in arm about the garden, a little girl ran out to them and called, “Eva Dearman, Mrs. Friend wants to see you in the office right away quick. I guess something awful has happened, she looks so sad.”

Amanda clung to her friend. “I knew it,” she almost sobbed. “That dreadful woman chose you. I knew she was going to by the way she looked at you. Oh, Eva, you’ll be so unhappy there. Why couldn’t she have chosen me?”

Eva released herself from her friend’s embrace and said tenderly, “Why should you suffer for me? You would be just as unhappy at Mrs. Green’s as I should. But don’t cry, Mandy. It may not be so very dreadful after all.” Then she turned and went into the house.

Eva’s face was very pale when Mrs. Friend looked up and saw her standing in the doorway. The matron put her arms about her and held her close, as a mother would, and then she said, “Eva, dear, you don’t know how I dread telling you.”

But the girl smiled bravely as she replied: “I know what it is! Mrs. Friend, you have been so kind to me. No one but my own mother was ever so kind, and I know that if you could have prevented this, you would have done so.”

“I have not given up hope yet, Eva,” the matron replied. “If you will go for a time, I will try in every way to have you recalled as soon as possible. Dear,” she added, looking tenderly at the girl, “are you sure that you have no living relative?”

Eva shook her head sadly. “There is no one,” she said. “Father had only one brother, and mother was the last of her family.”

“What became of your father’s brother, Eva? Did he die, also?” the matron asked.

“Yes, he is dead,” Eva replied. “Uncle Dick went west when he was a mere lad, because he was so eager for adventure, and for several years he wrote to my father from different places. At last he seemed to settle down to one, and he wrote that he was having an interesting life and making money. Then, for a long time, father did not hear, and at last a letter which he had written was returned to him unopened, and on the outside was scrawled, ‘Dick Dearman was killed in an Indian raid, leastwise it is supposed so.’ After that father wrote time and again, but his letters always came back. All this happened before father married my mother.”

“Did you ever hear how your father addressed those letters, Eva?” the matron inquired.

“To Dry Creek, Arizona,” the girl replied. And then she asked, “When am I to go to Mrs. Green’s?”

“To-morrow,” the matron replied sadly.

“Very well. Good-night, Mrs. Friend,” the girl said so quietly that the matron thought that perhaps she did not mind going so much after all; but if she could have seen the lonely motherless girl a few moments later, she would have known how cruelly hard this new experience was for her.

Eva did not return to the garden, but, instead, she ran up to the dormitory, and throwing herself upon the bed, sobbed as though her heart would break. Then, slipping to her knees, she held her dear mother’s picture, and prayed for strength to bear this heavy cross bravely and cheerfully, as that dear mother had taught her.

After a time peace crept into the heart of the girl, and she seemed to know that in some way all was well. By the time that the other orphans came into the dormitory for the night, Eva was able to meet them smilingly; and since most of them believed that she had been greatly honored to have been the choice of the rich woman, they little dreamed of the hour of suffering which she had just passed through.

When Eva awoke the next morning, it was with the feeling that something unusual was going to happen. She looked out at the bare tree-tops in the orchard and at the gray autumn sky, and then she remembered, and for a moment her heart sank within her. But suddenly the sun burst through a rift in the clouds, and the world was bright again.

Eva sprang up to dress, as she thought bravely: “Maybe the sun will shine through my clouds. Anyway, if I pretend that going to Mrs. Green’s is something that I very much want to do, it will make it seem easier, and, as Adele says, every cloud has a sunny side, even if it is very hard to see just at first.”

Mrs. Friend glanced anxiously at Eva when she entered the dining-room that morning, her arm linked through Amanda’s, but the bright smile of greeting dispelled the matron’s fear that she might have cried all night.

“What a dear, brave girl she is!” Mrs. Friend thought, and she strengthened her resolve to leave no stone unturned in her effort to have Eva recalled.

After breakfast Eva went to the dormitory to pack her few belongings, and Amanda was with her.

“I feel just like crying,” Amanda said, “but when I see how brave you are, it makes me feel ashamed of myself, for even living here with orphans won’t be so bad as living with that dreadful woman. Do you suppose that you are to be sent to school with that prig of a girl?”

“No,” Eva replied. “Mrs. Friend told me that Susetta is to have a tutor come from the city each day, and I suppose I am to have lessons with her.”

Poor little Eva little dreamed that educating the orphan was not in Mrs. Green’s scheme.

Few were the girl’s belongings, and those were soon packed in a satchel which had belonged to her father. Lovingly Eva touched it, and it was hard for her to keep back the tears when she remembered the big, fine man who had owned it. How sad he would be if he knew that his only little girl—But she put the thought away from her and smiled brightly up at her friend. It would not do for her to be recalling the once happy home and the two who had so loved her.

“Amanda,” she said, trying to speak cheerily, “would you like to wear my blue ring while I am away? Maybe it would be sort of company for you.”

Amanda choked as she replied: “Oh, Eva, I’d be so glad to wear it. Maybe it would help me to be brave, the way you are. I’ll just look at the ring and remember that you love me, and then I won’t care so much if the other girls are mean.”

“There!” Eva announced as she snapped the clasp of the satchel. “My wardrobe is packed and I am ready to depart for my future palatial residence at Restwell.” Then she laughingly added, as she caught hold of her friend and swung her around: “Amanda, do smile! You look as though you were at a funeral. Really, now, things might be ever so much worse. I might be going miles and miles away from you, but, as it is, I shall be near enough to run over and see you often.”

At that moment a small girl put her head in the dormitory-door and called excitedly: “Eva! Eva Dearman! Are you here? There’s the grandest kerridge come to get you. My, don’t I envy you though! Wouldn’t I like to be leavin’ this dismal old orphans’ home and going to live in a castle, like as not, where there’s servants with gold buttons to wait on you.”

Eva hurriedly put on her hat and coat, and then, kissing her friend, she whispered: “Don’t cry, Amanda. Somehow I feel sure that something ever so nice is going to happen soon for both of us. I can’t think what it will be, but I feel it in my bones, and you can’t guess what good prophets my bones are,” she added merrily as they started down the stairs.

Mrs. Friend was waiting in the hall, and she and Amanda walked out to the gate with Eva, Amanda carrying the satchel, as she would gladly have carried all of her friend’s burdens if only she could.

A liveried footman helped Eva into the carriage, to the envy of all the orphans, who were watching from the windows of the Home.

“My, but ain’t she a lucky girl!” said Jenny Waine to her neighbor.

“For my part,” Sally West replied, “I can’t see why that rich woman would choose such a pale, skinny girl. You’re much prettier, with your red cheeks and black eyes.”

“Well, I’m thinking they won’t keep her long,” Jenny replied, with a toss of her head which set her raven curls to bobbing, “and then maybe one of us will get the next chance.”

Meanwhile Eva, seated upon the luxurious purple cushions, leaned back comfortably as she thought, “I’m just going to enjoy every pleasant thing that comes along and not worry about the future.”

This was a wise decision, but Eva did not find many things to enjoy during the next few weeks.