"There! I knew 'twas," triumphed the woman. "An' ter think of you comin' back an' workin' fur yer father like this, an'—"
It was the woman's turn to open wide eyes of amazement.
"Do you mean to say you don't know Burke Denby is your father?"
"But he isn't my father! My father is dead!"
"Who said so?"
"Why, mother—that is—I mean—she never said— What do you mean? He can't be my father. My mother's name is Helen Darling!" Betty was making no effort to get away now. She was, indeed, clutching the woman's arm with her free hand.
The woman scowled and stared. Suddenly her face cleared.
"My Jiminy! so that's her game! She's keepin' it from ye, I bet ye," she cried excitedly.
"Keeping it from me! Keeping what from me? What are you talking about?" Betty's face had paled. The vague questions and half-formed fears regarding her mother's actions for the past few months seemed suddenly to be taking horrible shape and definiteness.