strangers you'd quit troubling about that. You know you are as good as
anybody else, so what is the good of worrying? You make me very
unhappy, Harriet. I feel almost as if I did wrong to bring you up.
But you know I love you just the same as if you was my own child, don't
you?"

"Yes, and I love you as if you were my own mother. I love you more,
too, when I am in trouble, though I reckon I don't show it; but,
mother, I am dying to know something about my own flesh and blood. I'd
rather know that my blood was good than have all the wealth of the
earth. You have let enough out to show me that I must have had very,
very poor parents."

"I simply said that when they left you at my house you had on rather
cheap clothing, but you know that was just after the war, when nobody
could dress their children much."

"But they deserted me," said Harriet; "they could not have been very
honorable. I reckon Mr. Westerfelt knows all about it."

"Well, he won't think any the less of you if he does," said Mrs. Floyd.
"He looks like a born gentleman to me. You will never see a man like
him turning against a girl for something she can't help. You ought not
to say your parents were not honorable; they may have left you,
thinking it would be best for you. We were considered pretty well off
then."

Harriet made no reply for several minutes, and then she said:

"I think Mr. Westerfelt is the best man I ever knew, but he must be