shopping tour for Marjorie stands out as an epoch in our lives. I am not
of the right sex to describe it. Marjorie came to us with only such
clothing as a poor mother could provide. She must be outfitted anew from
head to toe, and she was. The next evening, when she greeted me, she was
the proud possessor of more lovely things than she had ever known
before. But, beautiful as the little face appeared to me then, more
beautiful was the look in Mother's face. There had come into her eyes a
look of happiness which had been absent for many months. I learned then,
and I state it now as a positive fact, that a woman's greatest
happiness comes from dressing a little girl. Mothers may like pretty
clothes for themselves; but to put pretty things on a little girl is an
infinitely greater pleasure. More than once Mother went down-town for
something for herself--only to return without it, but with something for
Marjorie!

We pledged to ourselves at the very beginning that we would make
Marjorie ours; not only to ourselves but to others. Our friends were
asked never to refer in her presence to the fact that she was adopted.
As far as we were concerned it was dismissed from our minds. She was
three years old when she was born to us, and from then on we were her
father and her mother. To many who knew her and loved her, this article
will be the first intimation they ever have received that Marjorie was
not our own flesh and blood. It was her pride and boast that she was
like her mother, but had her father's eyes. Both her mother and I have
smiled hundreds of times, as people meeting her for the first time would
say, "Anyone would know she belonged to you. She looks exactly like
you!"

Marjorie made a difference in our way of living. A second-story flat,
comfortable though it was, was not a good place to bring up a little