“Come and see my red-headed boy—my Bobilink! He’s going to be Robert Kendall.”
Then Lynda drew near with Ann. Betty stopped rocking and confronted the two with her far-reaching, strangely penetrating gaze.
“What a beautiful little girl,” she whispered.
“Is she beautiful, Betty?”
“She’s—lovely. Come here, dear, and see my baby.” Betty put forth a welcoming hand to the child, but Ann shrank away and her long silence was broken.
“I jes’ naturally hate babies!” she whispered, in the soft drawl that betrayed her.
“Lyn, who is she? Why—what is the matter?”
Lynda came close and her words did not reach past Betty’s strained hearing. “I—I’m going to—adopt her. I—I must prepare, Con. I hoped you’d keep her for a few days.”
“Of course I will, Lyn. I’m ready—but Lyn, tell me!”
“Betty, look at her! She has come out of—of Con’s past. He doesn’t know, he mustn’t know—not now! She belongs to—to the future. Can you—can you understand? I never suspected until to-day. I’ve got to get used to it!” Then, fiercely: “But I’m going to do it, Betty! Con’s road is my road; his duty my duty; it’s all right—only just at first—I’ve got to—steady my nerves!”