"Chris Liggett told you that?" Mrs. Sheridan asked, with a note of incredulity in her voice. "Yes. Aunt Alice guessed it almost as soon as I went to live there! And I've known it for over a year," Norma said. "And who told Chris?" "Well--Aunt Marianna, I suppose!" There was silence for a moment. "Norma," said Mrs. Sheridan, in a quiet, convincing tone that cooled the girl's hot blood instantly, "Chris is entirely wrong; your mother is dead. I've never lied to you, and I give you my word! I don't know where Miss Alice got that idea, but it's like her romantic way of fancying things! No, dear," she went on, sympathetically, as Norma sat silent, half-stunned by painful surprise, "you have no claim on Miss Annie. Both your father and mother are dead, Norma; I knew them both. There was a reason," Mrs. Sheridan added, thoughtfully, "why I felt that Mrs. Melrose might want to be kind to you--want to undo an injustice she did years ago. But I've told myself a thousand times that I did you a cruel wrong when I first let you go among them--you who were always so sensible, and so cheerful, and who would always take things as they came, and make no fuss!" "Oh, Aunt Kate," Norma stammered, bitterly, her lip trembling, and her voice fighting tears, "you don't have to tell me that in your opinion I've changed for the worse--I see it in the way you look at me! You've always thought Rose was an angel--too good to live!--and that I was spoiled and lazy and good-for-nothing; you were glad enough to get rid of me, and now I hope you're satisfied! They've told me one thing, and you've told me another--and I guess the truth is that I don't belong to anybody; and I wish I was dead, where my f-f-father and m-m-mother are----!" And stumbling into incoherence and tears, Norma dropped her head on her arm, and sobbed bitterly. Mrs. Sheridan's face was full of pain, but she did not soften. "You belong to your husband, Norma!" she said, mildly. Norma sat up, and wiped her eyes on a little handkerchief that she took from the pocket of her housewifely blue apron. She did not meet her aunt's eye, and still looked angry and hurt. "Well--who _am_ I then? Haven't I got some right to know who my mother and father were?" she demanded. "That you will never hear from me," Mrs. Sheridan replied, firmly. "But, Aunt Kate----" "I gave my solemn promise, Norma, and I've kept my word all these years; I'm not likely to break it now." "But--won't I _ever_ know?" Mrs. Sheridan shrugged her broad shoulders and frowned slightly. "That I can't say, my dear," she said, gently. "Some day I may be released from my bond, and then I'll be glad to tell you everything." "Perhaps Wolf will tell me he's nothing to me, now!" the girl continued, with childish temper.