ith happiness.

"And now I'll call you muvver-Lyn 'cause you're mighty kind and this is
your house! It's a right fine house."

Truedale had well timed his return home. He was ready to greet the two
in the library. The prattling voice charmed him with its delightful
mellowness and he went forward gladly to meet Lynda and the new little
child. Ann was ahead; Lynda fell back and, with fast-throbbing heart
waited by the doorway.

Ann had had a week and more of Brace Kendall to wipe away the impression
Burke Lawson had imprinted upon her mind. But she was shy of men and
weighed them carefully before showing favours. She stood still when she
saw Truedale; she dropped, unheeded, a package; she stared at him, while
he waited with extended hands. Then slowly--as if drawn against her
will--Ann advanced and laid her hands in his.

"So this is the little girl who has come to help us make Christmas?"

"Yes." Still that fixed look. It seemed to Lynda the most unnatural
thing she had ever seen. And oh! how alike the two were, now that they
were together!

"You are little Ann and you are going to play with"--Truedale looked
toward Lynda and drew her to him by the love in his eyes--"You are going
to play with us, and you will call us mother and father, won't you,
little Ann?" He meant to do his part in full. He would withhold nothing,
now that Lynda had decided to take this step.

"Yes."

"And do you suppose you could kiss me--to begin with?"

Quaintly the child lifted herself on her toes--Truedale was half
kneeling before her--and gave him a lingering kiss.

"We're going to be great friends, eh, little Ann?" Truedale was pleased,
Lynda saw that. The little girl was making a deep impression.

"Yes." Then--deliberately: "Shall I have to teach you to be a father?"

"What does she mean?" Truedale looked at Lynda who explained Betty's
charming foolery.

"I see. Well, yes, Ann, you must teach me to be a father."

And so they began their lives together. And after a few days Lynda saw
that during the child's stay with Betty the crust of sullen reserve had
departed--the little creature was the merriest, sweetest thing
imaginable, once she could forget herself. Protected, cared for, and
considered, she developed marvellously and soon seemed to have been with
them years instead of days. The impression was almost startling and both
Lynda and Truedale remarked upon it.

"There are certain things she does that appear always to have