ching for a Helen Morton with the
above named relatives, but, so far, have not located her.

"We discovered a number of Helen Mortons, but they were not the right
ones. Recently we saw your name in a theatrical magazine, and take
this opportunity to inquire of you, sending this letter in care of the
circus with which we understand you are connected. Kindly reply as
soon as possible. If you are the right person there is a sum of money
due you, and we wish, if that is the case, to pay it and close an
estate."

Joe read the letter over twice without speaking.

"Well," remarked Helen, after a pause, "I thought you were going to
advise me."

"So I am," Joe said. "I want to get this through my head first. But
let me ask you: Is this a joke, or are you the Helen Morton referred
to?"

"I don't know whether it's a joke or not, Joe. First I thought it was.
But my father's name was Thomas, and my grandfather was a Seth Morton,
and he lived in San Francisco. Of course that was when I was a little
girl, and I don't remember much about it. We lived in the West before
papa and mamma died, and it was there I learned to ride a horse.

"When I was left alone except for an elderly aunt, I did not know what
to do. My aunt took good care of me, however, but when she died there
was no one else, and she left no money. I tried to get work, but the
stores and factories wanted experienced girls, and the only thing I had
any experience with was a horse.

"I got desperate, and decided to see if I couldn't make a living by
what little talent I had. So one day, when a circus was showing in our
town, I took my horse, Rosebud, rode out and did some stunts in the
lots. The manager saw me and hired me. Oh, how happy I was!

"That wasn't with this show. I only joined here about two years ago.
Of course my friends--what few I had--thought it was dreadful for me to
become a circus rider, but I've found that there are just as good men
and women in circuses as anywhere else in this world," and her cheeks
grew red, probably at the memory of something that had been said
against circus folk.

"I know," said Joe, quietly. "My mother was a circus rider."

"So you have told me. But now about this letter, Joe. I wish Bill
Watson were here--he might know what to do about it."

"Well, I can't say that I do, in spite of my boast," Joe answered. "It
may be a joke, and, again, it may be the real thing. You may be an
heiress, Miss Morto