seemed to speak of Mr. McLean, as well as Senator Newberry and others, with awe, and I can remember how he used to say such-and-such a person "has a pile of money, Nan," probably looking up to them somewhat for having acquired the riches which he himself might never possess.
Meanwhile, during these monthly visits of Tim Slade to New York, "to report to his boss and get his salary check," I was going ahead with my plans to have my baby and my mother with me in New York under the arrangement worked out by me with the financial assistance Daisy Harding had agreed to provide.
Under date of October 16, 1925, I received a letter from Miss Harding.
"I sent your letter on to sister but it didn't have the desired effect," she wrote, "but I'm glad I sent it just the same. . . ." Mrs. Votaw had written her sister Daisy that she had been ill and in the sanitarium, Miss Harding wrote to me, and, following this, she said, "Somehow, I can't write it in a letter, the whole situation, resulting from the disclosure to her and her husband, especially in regard to him (Mr. Votaw) who just idolized E. A.'s father and therefore can't and doesn't want to believe it . . . ." Those had been almost Tim Slade's identical words to me, "Say, they don't want to believe it!" Miss Harding went on to say that her sister, Mrs. Votaw, could not understand why, if I cared so much for their brother, I should have found it necessary to tell so many people the story about Elizabeth Ann's identity as our daughter. It occurred to me that in a nation of millions, the real truth was that our story was known to amazingly few! I could count on less than ten fingers those who had heard it from my own lips, and this number included Daisy Harding and Tim Slade as well as certain members of my own immediate family who had been indispensable in the handling of our situa-
