--and--the babies waiting back
there for me. But--lil' Ann!"

The name came like a sob. And somehow Lynda thought of Burke Lawson!
Burke, who had done his strong best, and still could not keep himself in
control because of--lil' Ann! The helpless baby was--oh! yes, yes--it
was Truedale's responsibility. If she, Lynda, were to keep her life--her
sacred love--she, too, must do a "big thing"--perhaps the biggest a
woman is ever called upon to do--to prove her faith.

For another moment she struggled; then, like a blind woman, she
stretched out her hands and laid them upon the child.

"Nella-Rose, will you give--_me_ little Ann?"

"Give her--to--you?" There was anguish, doubt, but hope, in the words.

"I want--the child! She shall have her father--her father's home--his
love, God willing! And I, Nella-Rose, as I hope for God's mercy, I will
do my duty by little Ann."

And now Lynda was on the floor beside the shabby pair, shielding them as
best she could from the last wrench and renunciation.

"Are you doing this for--for your man?" whispered Nella-Rose.

"Yes. For my--man!" They looked long into each other's eyes. Then
solemnly, slowly, Nella-Rose relinquished her hold of the child.

"I--give you--lil' Ann." So might she have spoken if, in religious
fervour, she had been resigning her child to death. "I--I--give you lil'
Ann." Gently she kissed the sleeping face and laid her burden in the
aching, strained arms that had still to learn their tender lesson of
bearing. Ann opened her eyes, her lips quivered, and she turned to her
mother.

"Take--lil' Ann!" she pleaded. Then Nella-Rose drank deep of the bitter
cup, but she smiled--and spoke one of the lies over which angels have
wept forgivingly since the world began.

"Lil' Ann, the kind lady is going to keep yo' right safe and happy 'til
mother makes things straight back there with--with yo'--father, in the
hills. Jes' yo' show the lady how sweet and pretty yo' can be 'til
mother comes fo' yo'! Will yo'--lil' Ann?"

"How long?"

"A mighty lil' while."

All her life the child had given up--shrunk from that which she feared
but did not understand; and now she accepted it all in the dull,
hopeless way in which timid children do. She received her mother's
kiss--gave a kiss in return; then she looked gloomily, distrustingly, at
Lynda. After that she seemed complacent and obeyed, almost stupidly,
whatever she was told to do.

Lynda took Nella-Rose to the station,