Edith smiled. "I see. And I'm to make what I like of you, if I can only get her to appreciate him?" "Yes. Tell her that, as far as I'm concerned, I respect her attitude profoundly." "Very well. I'll tell her just what you've told me." She spoke of it the next day, when Anne came to read to her in the afternoon. Anne was as punctual as ever in her devotion, but the passion of it had been transferred to Peggy. The child was with them, playing feebly at her mother's knee, and Anne's mood was propitious. She listened intently. It was the first time that she had brought any sympathy into a discussion of the prodigal. "Did he tell you," said she, "what Walter did for him?" "No." "Nor what had happened?" "No. I didn't like to ask him. Whatever it was, it has gone very deep with him. Something has made a tremendous difference." "Has it made him change his ways?" "I believe it has. You see, Nancy, that's what Walter was trying for. He always had that sort of hold on him. That was why he was so anxious not to have him turned away." Anne's face was about to harden, when Peggy gave the sad little cry that brought her mother's arms about her. Peggy had been trying vainly to climb into Anne's lap. She was now lifted up and held there while her feet trampled the broad maternal knees, and her hands played with Anne's face; stroking and caressing; smoothing her tragic brow to tenderness; tracing with soft, attentive fingers the line of her small, close mouth, until it smiled. Anne seized the little hands and kissed them. "My lamb," she said, "what are you doing to your poor mother's face?" She did not see, as Edith saw, that Peggy, a consummate little sculptor, was moulding her mother's face into the face of love. "I should never have dreamed," said Anne, "of turning him away, if I had thought he was really going to reform. Besides, I was afraid he would be bad for Walter." "It didn't strike you that Walter might be good for him?" "It struck me that I had to be strong for Walter." "Ah, Walter can be strong for all of us." She paused on that, to let it sink in. Anne's face was thoughtful. "Anne, if you believed that all I've said to you was true, would you still object to having Charlie here?" "Certainly not. I would be the first to welcome him." "Then, will you write to him of your own accord, and tell him that, if what I've told you is true, you'll be glad to see him? He knows why you couldn't receive him before, dear, and he respects you for it." Anne thought better of Mr. Gorst for that respect. It was the proper attitude; the attitude she had once vainly expected Majendie to take. "After all, what have I to do with it? He comes to see you." "Yes, dear; but I shan't always be here for him to see. And if I thought that you would help Walter to look after him--will you?" "I will do what I can. My little one!"