he said huskily, "come, let me hold you while we wait for
mommy-Lyn."

Ann came gladly and nestled against his breast.

"To think it's my daddy that made the splendid play!" she whispered,
cuddling closer. "I can tell the girls and be so proud." Then she yawned
softly.

"Mommy-Lyn, I suppose, had to go and whisper the secret to Billy," she
went on, finding as usual an excuse instead of a rebuke. "Billy's missed
the glory of his life because he's so young!"

Another--a longer yawn. Then the head lay very still and Truedale saw
that she was asleep. Reverently he kissed her. Then he bore her to the
little bed behind the white screen, with its tall angels with brooding
eyes. As he laid her down she looked up dreamily:

"I'm a pretty big girl to be carried," she whispered, "but my daddy is
strong and--and great!"

Again Truedale kissed her, then went noiselessly to find Lynda.

He went to their bedchamber, but Lynda was not there. Billy, rosy and
with fat arms raised above his pretty blond head, was sleeping--unconscious
of what was passing near. Truedale went and looked yearningly down at
him.

"My boy!" he murmured over and over again; "my boy." But he did not kiss
Billy just then.

There was no doubt in Truedale's mind, now, as to where he would find
Lynda. Quietly he went downstairs and into the dim library. The fire was
out upon the hearth. The gray ashes gave no sign of life. The ticking of
the clock was cruelly loud; and there, beside the low, empty chair,
knelt Lynda--her white dress falling about her in motionless folds.

Truedale, without premeditation, crossed the room and, sitting in his
uncle's chair--the long-empty chair, lifted Lynda's face and held it in
his hand.

"Lyn," he said, fixing his dark, troubled eyes upon hers, "Lyn, who is
Ann's father?"

Lynda had not been crying; her eyes were dry and--faithful!

"You, Con," she said, quietly.

During the past years had Lynda ever permitted herself to imagine how
Conning would meet this hour she could not have asked more than now he
gave. He was ready, she saw that, to assume whatever was his to bear.
His face whitened; his mouth twitched as the truth of what he heard sunk
into his soul; but his gaze never fell from that which was raised to
his.

"Can you--tell me all about it, Lyn?" he asked.

For an instant Lynda hesitated. Misunderstanding, Truedale added:

"Perhaps you'd rather not to-night! I can wait. I trust you absolutely.
I am su