She sprang up from her kneeling attitude.
"Priscilla!" she echoed—"She knew, and she never said a word!"
"If she had, she'd have got the sack," answered Jocelyn, bluntly. "You were brought up always as MY child."
He broke off, startled by the tragic intensity of her look.
"I want to know how that was," she said, slowly. "You told me my mother died when I was born."
He avoided her eyes.
"Well, that was true, or so I suppose," he said. "The man who brought you said you were motherless. But I—I have never married."
"Then how could you tell Robin—and everyone else about here that I was your daughter?"
He grew suddenly angry.
"Child, don't stare at me like that!" he exclaimed, with all an old man's petulance. "It doesn't matter what I said—I had to let the neighbours think you were mine—"