Without opening his eyes Sandy drew the clinging hands to his lips and kissed them.
"When you find me, dear heart, dear heart, will you tell me or give me a sign?"
"Yes, Sandy."
"And now—where are you going, Cynthia?"
For the girl was turning from him.
"Just down The Way. I must watch with Aunt Ann. She is a mighty troublesome lil' child these days. Good-bye."
They looked tenderly, frankly, in each other's eyes and then the girl was gone.
And that night Cynthia sat beside Ann Walden and kept watch and guard while faithful Sally slept. The bedchamber was very quiet and only a tallow candle lighted the gloom. The figure stretched out upon the bed was deathlike in its rigid motionlessness, and Cynthia's hand lay over the thin, old wrinkled ones for fear in a drowsy moment the woman might elude her.
It was past midnight when Ann Walden stirred and opened her eyes. Cynthia was alert at once, but the light that shone on the old face revealed an expression which had not rested there for many a day.
"Queenie!"