Truedale, sitting beside her, one hand upon the downy head that had nearly cost so much, saw the mother-lips move.
“You—want—the baby?” he asked.
“I—I want little Ann.” Then the white lids fell, shutting away the weak tears.
“Lyn, the darling has been waiting outside your door all night—I imagine she is there now.”
“Yes, I know. I want her.”
“Are you able—just now, dear?”
“I—must have little Ann.”
So Ann came. She was white—very much awed; but she smiled. Lynda did not open her eyes at once; she was trying to get back some of the old self-control that had been so mercilessly shattered during the hours of her struggle, but presently she looked up.
“You—kept your word, Ann,” she said. Then: “You—you made a place for my baby. Little Ann—kiss your—brother.”
They named the baby for William Truedale and they called him Billy, in deference to his pretty baby ways.