dma mourned, "I'm afraid to meddle in things like that.
Love is a wonderful strange thing for which there are no rules. And
the hearts of men and women must all have their share of sorrow. For
it's only through pain and endless blunders that we human folks ever
learn. I've seen strange love history in this town and lots of it.
And I've learned one thing and that is that each heart wants to do its
loving in its own way without help or hindrance from the rest of the
world. So we'd best say nothing and let David and Jocelyn find a way
out of their trouble and misunderstanding."

But Nanny, with all the impatience of youth, rebelled.

"It's foolish," she stormed, "when just a dozen frank words would
straighten it out."

"Yes--a dozen words would do it," sighed Grandma, "But think, Nanny,
what it would cost David to say those dozen words--or Jocelyn."

"Conventions are foolish. Honesty is better."

"Yes, honesty is always best. But truth is something that lovers find
hardest to manage and listen to. And you know, Nanny, even a happy
love means a certain amount of sorrow."

"Does it?" the girl wondered.

"Yes," said Grandma softly, "it does, as I and many another woman can
testify. I'm only hoping that a love great and fine will come to
Cynthia's boy and that it won't cost him too much."

"Why," asked Nanny carelessly, "should life be easier and richer for
him?"

"Because long before he was born his mother paid for his birthright and
happiness with part of her own, and if God is just and life fair then
her courage and sorrow ought to count for something and her loss be his
gain."

"Hadn't you better tell me the whole story, Grandma?" begged Nan.

"It isn't exactly all mine to tell. But some day I dare say I shall."

Grandma rose and glanced mischievously at the girl.

"Nanny, I'll tell you the day you come to me and tell me you're in
love. Not engaged, you understand, but in love."

Again Nanny whitened and caught her breath and then looked quietly at
Grandma in a way that made the dear old soul say hurriedly:

"There, there, child, I didn't mean to meddle or hurt."

To herself she added, "We're all blundering fools at times. And why is
it that youth always thinks that all the world is blind and stupid?"

Grandma's penitent mind then recalled the box of pictures that
Cynthia's son had brought down to show her the night before. It still
stood on the living-room table. So the wise and tender sou