trange child may be hers.
I remember seeing the mother two or three times, and her face peers at
me now when I am in reverie. A vengeance of fate for a social crime, I
expect," he said, laughing nervously. Then he continued: "You may
wonder, Mistress McVeigh, why I am telling you this, but your Jennie's
face is that of my son's wife. It may be the result of long years of
remorse which have created a myth in my brain, but when she comes to
wait on me the likeness is very real. I hope you will excuse my action
in taking that photo, and perhaps you will sell it." Mr. Hyden spoke
seriously, lest Nancy should suspect him of subterfuge.

"Sure, sir, ye think it is like yer own flesh and blood?" Nancy
questioned, softly, her eyes filling suddenly.

Mr. Hyden's brow contracted into a frown, and he seemed on the point of
regretting the confidences which he had spoken, but Nancy interrupted
him.

"Jennie is not my own," she said, sadly.

"Not your own!" he ejaculated, pausing in the act of handing back the
photo. "I knew it, for that child is no more of your family than I am,
even to the eyes of a stranger, begging pardon if I speak too freely."

"Perhaps ye would care fer the story?" Nancy asked, beaming with
renewed friendliness.

"Please tell it, Mistress McVeigh," he answered, eagerly, as he pushed
a chair towards Nancy and seated himself. Nancy gave herself over to
silent musing for a few minutes, and Mr. Hyden prepared his pipe in the
interval.

"Jennie'll be eighteen come twentieth o' March," Nancy began, then
checked herself while she counted on her fingers. "No, maybe
nineteen," meditatively. "Ye see, Mr. Hyden, times on the Monk Road
are so much the same that one fergits the exact date o' things.
Anyhow, it all occurred the year before the railroad was completed
through these parts, fer well I remember takin' Jennie in me arms
across the fields to see the first passenger train go by the Junction,
with her engine all flags, and banners hung the length o' the cars with
mottoes in big red letters on them. Dan Sullivan, Heaven rest his
soul, was the engineer that day, and fer five years afterwards he took
time fer lunch at the tavern until he was killed up the line
somewheres. There were a lot o' officials on board that day, too, and
the Superintendent came out o' his car to pat Jennie's head. He could
not help it, fer the child had a winsome mass o' golden curls, if I do
say it meself." Nancy paused t