Even Genevieve seemed scarcely to know what to reply to this; but a few minutes later she had succeeded in gaining the confidence of the several children hanging about their mothers' skirts. Laughingly, then, the young people trooped away together to look at the flowers--all but Cordelia Wilson. Cordelia remained behind with the two women. "Please--I beg your pardon--but did you say your name was 'Mrs. Higgins'?" she asked eagerly, turning to the woman on the driver's seat. "Why, no--I didn't, Miss. But that's my name." "Yes, I know; 'twas the other lady who called you that, of course; but it doesn't matter, so long as I know 'tis that." "Oh, don't it?" murmured the woman, a little curiously. "No; and--you came from New Hampshire, once, didn't you?" An odd look crossed the woman's face. "Well, I ain't sayin' that." "But you did--please say that you did," begged Cordelia. "You see, I'm so anxious to find you!" A look that was almost terror came to the woman's eyes now. "I don't know nothin' what you're talkin' about, and I don't want to know, neither," she finished coldly, turning squarely around in her seat. Cordelia hesitated; then she stammered: "If--if you think it's because your mother will scold you, I can assure you that she will not. She is very anxious to hear from you--that's all. She's been so worried! She wants to know if you're doing well, and all that." "What _are_ you talking about?" demanded the woman, turning sharply back to Cordelia. "Your--mother." "My mother is--dead, Miss." "Oh-h!" gasped Cordelia. "You mean you _aren't_ Mrs. Lizzie Higgins--she that was Lizzie Snow of Sunbridge, New Hampshire, who eloped with Mr. Higgins and ran away to Texas years ago?" The woman laughed. Her face cleared. Whatever it was that she had feared--she evidently feared it no longer. "No, Miss. My name isn't 'Lizzie,' and it wa'n't 'Snow,' and I never heard of Sunbridge, New Hampshire." "O dear!" quavered Cordelia. "Mrs. Snow will be so sorry--that is, of course she'll be glad, too; for you aren't--" With a little gasp of dismay Cordelia pulled herself up before the words were uttered, but not before their meaning was quite clear to the woman. "Oh, yes, she'll be glad, too, no doubt," she cut in bitterly; "because I'm not exactly what a woman would want for a lost daughter, now, am I?" Cordelia blushed painfully. "Oh, please, please don't talk like that! I am sure Mrs. Snow would be glad to find any one for a daughter--she wants her so! And she's her--mother, you know." The woman's face softened. "All right," she smiled, a little bitterly. "If I find her I'll send her to you." "Oh, will you? Thank you so much," cried Cordelia. "And there are some others, too, that I'm hunting for. Maybe you can find them--traveling around so much as you do. If you've got a little piece of paper and a pencil, I'll just write them down, please."