an airin'. I
just couldn't part with her again, so I went to my rooms, gathered my
clothes into a bundle, and started fer home. I was sort o' wild then,
an' did not know what I was doing, but now I know that I did wrong, fer
there is no welcome fer me under my father's roof.

"'Will ye keep me fer a week, till I am stronger, Nancy McVeigh?' says
she, 'an' then I'll go back, an' perhaps I'll be more content.'

"I tell ye, Mr. Hyden, my heart bled fer the lass. The likes o' her
pleadin' with a rough old tavern-keeper fer her very livin'. 'Ye did
right to come home to me, Florence Raeburn. I'm not ashamed to have ye
here,' I answered her."

Mrs. McVeigh paused in her story to wipe away the tears which were
stealing down the furrows in her cheeks, but Hyden, in a strange, hard
voice, bade her proceed.

"The mother died two weeks afterwards, sir. I think it was her lungs
that were affected, but never a word of it did I send to Silas Raeburn
or his people. I could not fergit the sting of the words he had spoken
to me. I felt that it was my secret, an' when I took the baby from
Florence's arms fer the last time, she smiled and whispered, 'Ye'll no
give Jennie up, Nancy. Ye'll be a mother to her yersilf?'"

"I am judged! I am judged!" broke in Mr. Hyden, standing before her,
his features working in a desperate struggle with his emotions. Then
he spoke with more calmness. "She is my grandchild," he said.

The days that followed were full of torture for the old keeper of the
inn. Mr. Hyden wanted to take Jennie back to the city with him to be
educated. He would do for her all that he could, as the repentance for
his harshness to Jennie's mother was upon him. He waited day by day,
until Nancy could make up her mind. Of all Nancy's troubles this was
the sorest, for Jennie had been closer to her than her own son. Her
years were creeping over her, and she leaned on the young girl for
sympathy and advice. Yet in her heart she knew that Jennie must go,
and it was her duty to permit it. Her victory came suddenly, and one
morning saw her face free from clouds, and in their place a glimpse of
her old kindly smile.

"Take her, Mr. Hyden, an' make her a lady, fer the lass is above the
best that I can give her. You'll let her come to see me sometimes, an'
ye'll promise to be good to her?" she asked, wistfully. So it was that
Jennie left the old tavern on the Monk Road, jubilant in her innocent
way at the happy pr