"Well, I am glad to see you! I've been watchin' ev'ry day fur you. What did I tell ye? _Now_ I guess you'll say I know when I've seen a face before! _Now_ I know who you are. I see you with your mother at Martin's grocery last Sat'day night, and I tried ter get to ye, but I lost ye in the crowd. I see _you_ first, then I see her, and I knew then in a minute who you was, and why I'd thought I'd seen ye somewheres. I hadn't--not since you was a kid, though; but I knew yer mother, an' you've got her eyes. You're Helen Denby's daughter. My, but I'm glad ter see ye!" Betty, plainly distressed, had been attempting to pull her arm away from the woman's grasp; but at the name a look of relief crossed her face. "You are quite mistaken, madam," she said coldly. "My mother's name is not Helen Denby." "But I see her myself with my own eyes, child! Of course she's older lookin', but I'd swear on my dyin' bed 'twas her. Ain't you Dorothy Elizabeth?" Betty's eyes flew wide open. "You--know--my--_name_?" "There! I knew 'twas," triumphed the woman. "An' ter think of you comin' back an' workin' fur yer father like this, an'--" "My--_what_?" It was the woman's turn to open wide eyes of amazement. "Do you mean to say you don't know Burke Denby is your father?" "But he isn't my father! My father is dead!" "Who said so?" "Why, mother--that is--I mean--she never said-- What do you mean? He can't be my father. My mother's name is Helen Darling!" Betty was making no effort to get away now. She was, indeed, clutching the woman's arm with her free hand. The woman scowled and stared. Suddenly her face cleared. "My Jiminy! so that's her game! She's keepin' it from ye, I bet ye," she cried excitedly. "Keeping it from me! Keeping what from me? What are you talking about?" Betty's face had paled. The vague questions and half-formed fears regarding her mother's actions for the past few months seemed suddenly to be taking horrible shape and definiteness. "Sakes alive! Do you mean ter say that you don't know that Burke Denby is your father, an' that he give your mother the go-by when you was a kid, an' she lit out with you an' hain't been heard of since?" "No, no, it can't be--it can't be! My father was good and fine, and--" "Rats! Did she stuff ye ter that, too? I tell ye _'tis_ so. Say, look a-here! Wa'n't you down ter Martin's grocery last Sat'day night at nine o'clock?" "Y-yes." "Well, wa'n't you there with yer mother?" "Y-yes." A power entirely outside of herself seemed to force the answers from Betty's lips. "Well, I see ye. You was tergether, talkin' to the big fat man with the red nose. I started towards ye, but I lost ye in the crowd." Betty's face had grown gray-white. She remembered now. That was the night her mother had run away from--something. "But I knew her," nodded the woman. "I knew she was Helen Denby." "But maybe you were--mistaken."