“Why did you, mother dear? You really didn’t have to do it!” “And has that been bothering you, dear?” “Ever since the day I came!” The woman’s face and posture remained wooden for a moment. Then she relaxed. “You poor dear, parentless lamb! Don’t you know—don’t you understand—can’t you see why? I did it because of my love!” “Your love!” “Exactly. Maybe I’ve been trained and molded these last few years, Madelaine, to think of value as money. I can’t help that. A thousand people would have termed my payment to the Howland woman absurd and ridiculous. Of course it was. And yet I had a purpose in it. Dear heart—I wanted to feel you had cost me something. Something I had paid for so I had the right to bona fide ownership!” The girl’s calm eyes searched the woman’s face. They read the truth. “Cost you something?” she exclaimed. “I couldn’t go through the pain of giving you birth, dear girl. Yet I felt myself cheapening you and cheapening myself to get you for nothing. I wanted to pay—pay something ridiculous—and I did!” The woman’s voice cracked. “It wasn’t the Howland person getting money to which she had no right—it was my parting with it that counted! Can’t you understand?” “You might have given it to the Orphanage, instead of Miss Howland who really didn’t——” “Child, child! You’ll never know how much I have given to the Orphanage since you arrived to make my life worth while!” V “Mother,” said the girl after a time, “tell me why you really want me to go away? Why is it you don’t want me around where Gordon is? What’s the matter with him?” “I said he was a ‘rotter.’ That’s enough!” “But what do you mean by a ‘rotter’? What especially could he do by just remaining here?” Gracia Theddon bit her lip. “Don’t you know how a bad boy could compromise a girl or woman if he took it into his head to do it?” “Compromise her? Just what do you mean?” Mrs. Theddon stood looking out of the window for a time. “Sit down, Madge,” she directed, after decision showed grimly on her strong face. “I’m going to tell you a lot of things I wish that my mother had told me, even when I was as young as yourself.” The room grew dark as they sat there. The girl had drawn a chair to the window and as the mother finished, she remained for a long time with her elbows on the sill, her hands cupped about her face, staring down at the river and the serried lights across the South End Bridge. “I’m glad you’ve told me,” she said at last. “I’ve always wanted to know but never dared ask.” Gracia Theddon arose and snapped on the lights. VI A week later Gordon Ruggles accosted his aunt in the garden. “Look here, Aunt Gracie, what have you done with our little Bird of Paradise?” he demanded angrily. “Bird of Paradise! Madelaine left here night before last for boarding-school. But what school it is, or where it is, you’ll never learn—if I can help it!” “Hid her away from me, eh?”