e affairs of men
to be content; he would never be one who enjoyed personal power.

Lynda, during Ann's first years, had taken a partner who attended to
interviews, conferences, and contracts; but in the room over the
extension the creative work went on with unabated interest. Little Ann
soon learned to love the place and had her tiny chair beside the hearth
or table. There she learned the lessons of consideration for others, and
self-control.

"If the day comes," Lynda told Betty, "when my work interferes with my
duty to Con and Ann, it will go! But more and more I am inclined to
think that the interference is a matter of choice. I prefer my
profession to--well, other things."

"Of course," Betty agreed; "women should not be forever coddling their
offspring, and when they learn to call things by their right names and
develop some initiative, they won't whine so much."

Lynda and Truedale had sadly abandoned the hope of children of their
own. It was harder for Lynda than for Con, but she accepted what seemed
her fate and thanked heaven anew for little Ann and the sure sense that
she could love her without reserve.

And then, after the years of change and readjustment, Lynda's boy was
born! He seemed to crown everything with a sacred meaning. Not without
great fear and doubt did Lynda go down into the shadow; not without an
agony of apprehension did Truedale go with her to the boundary over
which she must pass alone to accept what God had in store for her. They
remembered with sudden and sharp anxiety the peril that Betty had
endured, though neither spoke of it; and always they smiled courageously
when most their hearts failed.

Then came the black hours of suffering and doubt. A wild storm was
beating outside and Truedale, hearing it, wondered whether all the great
events of his life were to be attended by those outbursts of nature. He
walked the floor of his room or hung over Lynda's bed, and at midnight,
when she no longer knew him or could soothe him by her brave smile, he
went wretchedly away and upon the dim landing of the stairs came upon
Ann, crouching white and haggard.

His nerves were at the breaking point and he spoke sharply.

"Why are you not in bed?" he asked.

"While--mommy-Lyn is--in--there?" gasped the girl, turning reproachful
eyes up to him. "How--could I?"

"How long have you been here?"

"Always; always!"

"Ann, you must go to your room at once! Come, I will go with you." She
rose and