“Why didn’t you stay home with him, then?” she cried. “You left him to me and I took care of him. He’d have lost his position if it hadn’t been for me.
“I kept after him until he made good,” she went on. “I saw that he came to work on time, I showed him what to learn. It was I, not you, that made him.”
She was speaking out loud––fiercely. Suddenly she stopped. She raised her eyes to the window––to the little star by the Big Dipper. Gently, as a mother speaks, she said again:––
“I made him––not you.”
Sally Winthrop sank into a chair. She began to cry––but softly now.
“You’re mine, Don,” she whispered. “You’re mine because I took care of you.”
A keen breeze from the mountains swept in upon her. She rose and stole across the hall to Mrs. Halliday’s room. That good woman awoke with a start.
“What is it?” she exclaimed.
“Oh, I’m sorry if I woke you,” answered 293 the girl. “But it’s turned cold, and I wondered if Don––if Mr. Pendleton had enough bedclothes.”
“Laws sake,” answered Mrs. Halliday. “I gave him two extra comforters, and if that ain’t enough he deserves to freeze.”