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CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
THE POOR LITTLE RICH BOY
(Copyright, 1915, by the Newspaper Enterprise Association)
"Would you rather sit in the cor
ner over there a little "while Mr. Hat
ton? I am a bit tired'."-
He took me to a seat with alacrity
and, looking out on the dancers, said:
"Do you know, Mrs. Waverly, I never
thought that people with as much
money as Harry and Eliene could live
as simply. Money has always meant
to me formality, conventionality and
hypocrisy! I have grown to hate it."
I looked at him with surprise be
cause Harry had told me that, for
generations, the Hatton family had
money and Mr. Hatton was one of
the multi-millionaires of the country.
"I have associated with so-called
great ladies all my life," he contin
ued, "but I don't believe I have ever
met but one womanly woman until
I came here. I did not know, until I
was four years old, that the beautiful
being who used to float in, dressed
like the princess in the fairy tale, was
mother. Oh, I was wonderfully well
cared for," he said, answering my
look. "My nursery suite was as sci
entifically fitted up as a hospital. My
night and day nures had come from
a special course of training in a chil
dren's hospital. My French bonne
spoke with the purest Parislenne ac
cent. In fact, I did not know that I
lad missed anything until Ojne day
.vben I went out walking with Marie
I saw in front of me a little boy about
my own age, and as I got near him he
slipped and fell.
"Immediately, from the bench be
:de him a woman rose with a cry
and snatched him to her breast, kiss
ing him and talking to him in a tone
of voice I had never heard before.
"Something hurt me and I began
to cry and Marie said to me: 'What is
the matter, child; you must not cry;
you will spoil your velvet frock.'
"I held out my arms to her as I
had seen the other little boy do to
the other woman. My little heart waa
aching to be taken up and loved and
cuddled, but Mane quietly tried to
wipp away by tears.
"I was crying so hard now that tie
other little boy came over to comfort
" 'Here, her, don't touch Master
Chadwich,' said Marie, anxiously.
The woman turned on her like a
" 'What's the matter with ye?
Don't touch him, indeed! Don't ye
see the kid is starvin' to death for a
little lovin'? Come here, lamikin;
come to Nora.'
"For the first time in my life I had
been spoken to in love's voice. I ran
with a cry of joy into those sympa
thetic Irish arms. I pillowed my
head on that ample breast.
"Marie was frightened, but I in
sisted that. Nora should go home
with us, and threatened to have hys
terics if she did not. Fate was good
to me. At the door I met my father,
just getting out of his limousine. He
was an austere man, but I had found
in my short life that he always gave
me everything for which I asked.
"I ran to him, holding the little
boy's hand. 'I want Nora and Pat,'
I shouted. 'Give me Nora and Pat
My father looked surprised and an
noyed, but when the explanations
had been made in excited French and
emphatic Irish dialect he was amused.
Nora was a widow. She could come
and be nurse to Chadwick provided
she could have a little place where
she could 'kape' Patrick.
"Well, the matter was fixed up
after a few days, and Nora, bless her,
was the only mother I have ever
known. My own moth'er went out of
my life soon after."
"And Pat?" I could not help ask
ing, for Mr. Hatton's story was like
a play of "a poor little rich boy."
"Pat," vhe answered-, with the first
smile I had seen on his face since he