"Are you the woman?" he cried. "Am I the boy? Are you my mother? Oh, tell me quick. Is it really true?"
"Yes, dear," and the woman caught both of his hands in hers, "every word is true. You are my own boy, and I am your mother. Are you glad?"
The expression upon Rod's face, as with a deep sigh of relief he lay back once more upon the pillow, was answer enough. All the old dread that the other mother would come back and carry him off suddenly disappeared. And yet he wondered about the letters she used to write. A puzzled look came into his eyes.
"What is it?" his mother asked. "Are you sorry?"
"Oh, no. But I was wondering about that other woman who used to write to me, who said she was my mother."
"It was I who wrote those letters, dear. I had to, you see."
"And you are not Anna Royanna, after all?"
"No. My real name is Anna Royal. I only changed part of the last name to Royanna."
"Why, it's just like a fairy tale," Rod exclaimed. "But, no, it isn't, either," he mused. "A fairy tale is only a make-believe, while this is really true. It's better than a fairy tale. Isn't it great!" and his eyes sparkled. "But, say, do grandad and grandma know about it?"
"Yes, dear. I told them last night."