been
waiting for her to do," Conning said, "it makes her very charming. She
brushes the dogs and cats regularly, and she's begun to pick up books
and papers in my den in a most alarming way--but she always manages to
know where they belong."

"That's uncanny," Lynda ventured; "but she certainly has fitted in,
bless her heart!"

There had been moments at first when Lynda feared that Thomas would
remember the child, but the old eyes could hardly be expected to
recognize, in the dainty little girl, the small, patched, and soiled
stranger of the annoying visit. Many times had Thomas explained and
apologized for the admittance of the two "forlornities," as he called
them.

No, everything seemed mercifully blurred; and Ann, in her new home,
apparently forgot everything that lay behind her. She never even asked
to go back to Betty's though she welcomed Betty, Brace, and Bobbie with
flattering joy whenever they came to visit. She learned to be very fond
of Lynda--was often sweetly affectionate with her; but in the wonderful
home, her very own, waited upon and cared for, it was Conning who most
appealed to her. For him she watched and waited at the close of day, and
if she were out with Lynda she became nervous and worried if they were
delayed as darkness crept on.

"I want father to see me waiting," she would urge; "I like to see his
gladness."

"And so do I!" Lynda would say, struggling to overcome the unworthy
resentment that occasionally got the better of her when the child too
fervently appropriated Conning.

But this trait of Ann's flattered and delighted Truedale; often he was
amused, but he knew that it was the one thing above all else in the
little girl that endeared her to him.

"What a darling she is!" he often said to Lynda when they were alone
together. "Is she ever naughty?"

"Yes, often--the monkey!"

"I'm glad to hear it. I hate a flabby youngster. Does she ever speak of
her little past, Lyn?"

"Never."

"Isn't that strange?"

"Yes, but I'm glad she doesn't. I want her to forget. She's very happy
with us--but she's far from perfect." "To what form of cussedness does
she tend, Lyn? With me she's as lamblike as can be."

"Oh! she has a fiery temper and, now that I think of it, she generally
shows it in reference to you."

"To me?" Truedale smiled.

"Yes. Thomas found her blacking your shoes the other day. She was making
an awful mess of it and he tried to take them from her. She gave him a
r