al throughout the parish for several
weeks. Some were sure that they saw the woman who had left the child
at the rectory. She had taken the early steamer the next morning for
the city, so they said. Though the stories were somewhat different yet
all agreed that the woman was beautiful, though her face was very sad,
as if she had been weeping bitterly, and had not slept at all during
the night.

Although the Royals heard faint rumours at times of what was being
said, they went on their way undisturbed, happy in the feeling that
they had done their duty, and pouring out their affection upon the
little lad who had become so dear to their lonely hearts.

At Christmas they were greatly surprised when a letter from Boston
reached them, with a post-office order enclosed for one dollar.

"I am hungry for news of my baby," so the letter ran, "and will you
please drop me a line to let me know how he is. I hope to send more
money when I can. The above address will find me.

"ANNA LAYOR."

Parson Dan held the post-office order in his hand for some time after
he had read the letter. His eyes stared straight before him into the
fire, though he saw nothing there.

"That money goes into the bank, Martha," he at length remarked. "I
shall open an account in Rodney's name. I could not use that money as
it would weigh too heavily upon my conscience. A sacrifice has been
made, there is no doubt of that. It is the price of blood, as truly as
was the water brought to David from the well of Bethlehem."

"You are quite right, Daniel," his wife replied. "Something tells me
that she is a good true woman, and that Rodney need never be ashamed of
her. But do you notice her name, 'Anna Layor'?"

"Don't let that worry you, dear. I have the feeling that it is not her
real name. Anyway, until we are sure let the boy keep ours."

That night Parson Dan wrote a long letter in answer to the brief one he
had received that day. It was all about Rodney--in fact, a complete
life history of the lad from the cold night he had been left at the
rectory. Far away in the big American city a few days later, in a
scantily furnished room, it was read by a woman whose tears fell upon
the pages as she eagerly drank in every word which told her of the
welfare of her darling child.

The next year Rodney's mother wrote every month, enclosing one dollar
each time. This amount was duly deposited in the bank to the child's
account. This was ke