“Lil’ Ann, the kind lady is going to keep yo’ right safe and happy ’til mother makes things straight back there with—with yo’—father, in the hills. Jes’ yo’ show the lady how sweet and pretty yo’ can be ’til mother comes fo’ yo’! Will yo’—lil’ Ann?”
“How long?”
“A mighty lil’ while.”
All her life the child had given up—shrunk from that which she feared but did not understand; and now she accepted it all in the dull, hopeless way in which timid children do. She received her mother’s kiss—gave a kiss in return; then she looked gloomily, distrustingly, at Lynda. After that she seemed complacent and obeyed, almost stupidly, whatever she was told to do.
Lynda took Nella-Rose to the station, saw to her every comfort, put a sum of money in her hand with the words:
“You must take it, Nella-Rose—to prove your trust in me; and it will buy some—some things for—the other babies. But”—and here she went close to Nella-Rose, realizing for the first time that the most difficult part, for her, was yet to come—“how will it be with—with your man—when he knows?”
Nella-Rose looked up bravely and something crept into her eyes—the look of power that only a woman who recognizes her hold on a man ever shows.
“He’ll bear it—right grateful—and it’ll wipe away the hate for Jed Martin. He’ll do the forgiving—since I’ve given up lil’ Ann; and if he doubts—there’s Miss Lois Ann. She’s mighty powerful with men—when it’s women that matters.”
“It’s very wonderful!” murmured Lynda. “More wonderful than I can understand.” And yet as she spoke she knew that she did understand. Between her and Burke Lawson, a man she was never to know, there was a common tie—a deep comprehension.
Late that afternoon Lynda drove to Betty’s with little Ann sitting rigidly on the seat beside her. The child had not spoken since she had seen the train move out of the station bearing her mother away. She had not cried or murmured. She had gone afterward, holding Lynda’s hand, through amazing experiences. She had seen her shabby garments discarded in dazzling shops, and fine apparel replace them. Once she had caught a glimpse of her small, transformed self in a long mirror and her dark eyes had widened. That was all. Lynda had watched her feverishly. She had hoped that with the change of clothing the startling likeness would lessen, but it did not. Robed in the trappings of her father’s world, little Ann seemed to become more wholly his.