mensely to have me there. I remember he wrote, "Gee, Nan, I think that's just fine!" when I had apprised him of my new job.
But even with this comparatively perfect arrangement—living right with my baby and working in a congenial atmosphere—I was not happy. The constant shock of realizing that I must do something immediately if I would claim Elizabeth Ann as mine fairly dogged my mental footsteps. My mind was ever at work trying to formulate a plan whereby I might cancel the adoption altogether and proclaim my rightful motherhood.
I was, however, willing that the present regime should, while I thus meditated upon a course of action, justify itself, though I knew that when my brother-in-law returned from abroad the resumption of a three-cornered parentage would leave me still unsatisfied.
Elizabeth lovingly approved of Elizabeth Ann's calling me "Mamma Nan," which she did for quite a while. I never encouraged or approved of her calling me "Aunt Nan," because I am not her aunt and do not wish to be so called by her. She calls me plain "Nan" now, which is better than prefixing it with "Aunt." Often during those days when Elizabeth Ann called me "Mamma Nan" someone would remark about it and I would have to brush it aside with an explanation. This never failed to cause a wave of weakness to pass over me as I faced the blunt truth that practically I had made myself her aunt by submitting to an adoption by my sister and her husband.
People remarked her fondness for me, and my most unnatural fondness for her who was not supposed to be related to me. Elizabeth had taken in two girls as roomers, finding it difficult even with Mr. Harding's generous allowance to keep up the expenses in connection with the household, send Scott a specified amount monthly for his expenses abroad where he was studying, and keep her own piano lessons paid for. Both of these girls were very fond of Elizabeth Ann. I remember I was jealous of their attention to her, not wanting anyone to have her but myself, fiercely resenting references to her as my sister's "daughter," even with the love I bore my sister. My daughter was a passion
