“You’ve never failed in anything, sweetest mother in the world. And Caro loves you just as I do—I’d swear it. Sometimes you can’t help hurting the people you love best. I—I’m hurting you myself; and I can’t help it. I’d give my right hand to help it; but I can’t—yet.” “There’s no need, Davy, dear,” I said steadily, glad that the dark had fallen to curtain my eyes. “Don’t try to be anything with me, or to say anything, but what is natural and right to you. The one thing I couldn’t get over, dear, would be your playing a part with me. I understand; and I can wait—a life-time, if you wish.” He kissed my hand, and sat there till the moon rose over the eastern hills and strewed the lawn with shadows. A mocking-bird stirred in his sleep and sang softly to himself. I could not speak. I lay straining my eyes through the dark to see his face, but it was all in the shadow. He rose to go at last, and, before I knew it, unbidden words had risen from some subconscious depth and uttered themselves through my lips. “David,” I said, with a sudden, foolish up-lift of my heart, “I’m going to be walking all about by Thanksgiving; and before the year is out I will help with my own hands to decorate this house for your and Caro’s wedding. I don’t know how I know it; but I do!” “Amen,” said David solemnly. “Mammy Lil, you’re a corker when it comes to prophesying. Keep up the habit; it’s sure comforting; and you always could see further through a stone wall than anybody else.” He had—or feigned—more faith in my prophecy than I had myself. I felt like a fool who has published his folly to the world. And as I lay there, tearless and sleepless the long night through, I had no hope for David, and only a dull anguish at thought of the girl I had called my daughter so long. * * * * *