ind that she would win his love first, and
when she was certain, then she would tell him who she was."

"And did she?"

"Not for some time. You see, she went under a name different from her
real one. She saw her husband's father and mother, and became well
acquainted with them. But she did not tell them who she was, as she
wanted them to love her too. Then, there was something else which kept
her from telling people who she really was. She made her living----"
Here she paused, as if uncertain how to proceed.

"How?" Rod enquired.

"By going on the stage."

"Oh, she was an actress, then," the boy exclaimed. "I have read about
such people."

"No, not exactly that. But she sang on the stage."

"Oh!"

"What's the matter, dear?" the woman enquired.

"Nothing much. Only something funny came into my mind. That's all."

"Yes, she sang in public," the story-teller continued, "and she had
made an agreement to sing for three years. She was afraid that if
people knew that she was going under a wrong name it might make
trouble. Anyway, she was sure it would make a whole lot of talk, and
she didn't want that to happen for awhile. It was one night after she
was through singing that she met her little boy. He came with another
boy to see her, and asked her to go and sing for a sick girl at
Hillcrest."

With a startled cry of joy, Rod sat up suddenly in bed. His eyes
fairly blazed with excitement, and his body trembled.

"Are you the woman?" he cried. "Am I the boy? Are you my mother? Oh,
tell me quick. Is it really true?"

"Yes, dear," and the woman caught both of his hands in hers, "every
word is true. You are my own boy, and I am your mother. Are you glad?"

The expression upon Rod's face, as with a deep sigh of relief he lay
back once more upon the pillow, was answer enough. All the old dread
that the other mother would come back and carry him off suddenly
disappeared. And yet he wondered about the letters she used to write.
A puzzled look came into his eyes.

"What is it?" his mother asked. "Are you sorry?"

"Oh, no. But I was wondering about that other woman who used to write
to me, who said she was my mother."

"It was I who wrote those letters, dear. I had to, you see."

"And you are not Anna Royanna, after all?"

"No. My real name is Anna Royal. I only changed part of the last name
to Royanna."

"Why, it's just like a fairy tale," Rod exclaimed. "But, no, it isn't,
either,"