"
"I jest want to ast if you live in Tinkletown?" Anderson managed to say.
"I do not," she replied emphatically.
"Well, then, lift your veil. If you don't live here I sha'n't know you."
"I prefer to keep my face covered, Mr. Crow; believe me and trust me.
Please let me see her." The plea was so earnest that Anderson's heart
gave a great thump of understanding.
"By ginger, you are her mother!" he gasped. Mrs. Crow came in at this
juncture, and she was much quicker at grasping the situation than her
husband. It was in her mind to openly denounce the woman for her
heartlessness, but her natural thriftiness interposed. She would do
nothing that might remove the golden spoon from the family mouth.
The trio stole upstairs and into the warm bedchamber. There, with
Anderson Crow and his wife looking on from a remote corner of the room,
the tall woman in black knelt beside the crib that had housed a
generation of Crows. The sleeping Rosalie did not know of the soft
kisses that swept her little cheek. She did not feel the tears that fell
when the visitor lifted her veil, nor did she hear the whisperings that
rose to the woman's lips.
"That is all," murmured the mysterious stranger at last, dropping her
veil as she arose. She staggered as she started for the door, but
recovered herself instantly. Without a word she left the room, the
Crows following her down the stairs in silence.
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