rable surprise Jerry's loyal little heart went
out quickly to Little-Dad.

"Oh, even if he _is_ a stepfather I love him just the same!" she
exclaimed, wishing he was there that she might hug him.

"You see, beginning at this end made my search quicker. It was hindered
a little, though, because the county courthouse at Waytown, where the
records of Jerry's birth and Craig Winton's death were filed, burned a
few years ago with everything in it. But I stumbled on an old codger who
used to be postmaster at Waytown and he told me more in a few moments
than all the Boston detectives had found in months. I went on to Boston
to interview those old friends the lawyers there had found and then came
back."

There was a puzzled look on each face. Hesitatingly, Jerry put the
question that was in each mind.

"But, mother, why didn't you ever tell? Were you--ashamed?"

Her mother's face flared with color. She stepped forward and laid an
entreating hand on Jerry's. "Oh, no--_no_!" she cried. "You must not
think that--no one must. He--your father--was the finest man that ever
lived. But he made me promise, when you were a wee, wee baby, that I
would try to protect you from the bitterness of the world that
had--broken his heart. Oh, he died of a broken heart, a broken spirit.
He lived in his dreams, his inventions were a part of him--like his
right arm! When they failed he suffered cruelly. Then he had one that he
knew was good. But----" she stopped abruptly, remembering that these
people were Westleys. "But he could never have been happy. He was not
practical or--or sensible. His brain wore out his body--it was always,
always working along one line. And before he--died, he seemed to have
the fear that you might grow up to be like him--'a puppet for the
thieves to fleece and feed upon,' he used to say. After he--died, we
stayed on in Dr. Travis' cabin, where he had sheltered and cared for
your father. He moved down into the village but, oh, he was so good to
us! When, two years later I married him and we built this home, I vowed
that I would keep only the blessed peace of Sunnyside for you. So I
never told you of your own father and those dreadful years of poverty.
But I was not _ashamed_!"

Jerry, not knowing exactly why, put one arm around her mother's shoulder
in a protecting manner. "Poor, brave Sweetheart," she whispered, laying
her cheek against her mother's arm.

Isobel and Gyp were held silent by a disturbing sense of emb