died, an'--an' my sister died, an' nothin' was left but the sorrow an'
the shame, an'--Miriam."

The name fell softly on a silence that we respected. Presently she
continued--

"Doctor Standish offered to take the child, an' I dared not keep her.
His terms were awful hard, but just: the scandal'd broke up his home,
an' his heart. He tole me he'd take Miriam ter Californy, an' that she
must never know the story of her mother's sin. That was right, Mr.
Ajax--eh?"

"I don't know, Gloriana. Go on."

"I promised him never ter speak to the child, an' I've kept my word;
but he let me make her things. That was kind of him--very kind."

"Very kind, indeed," said Ajax.

"I followed 'em ter Californy, an' worked out, an' sold books an'
peddled fruit, but I've kep' track o' little Miriam."

"You have never spoken to her, you say?"

"Never. Doctor Standish kin trust me. He's posted me, too. He tole me
o' the wedding. I got word the night I first went ter the village, an'
that's why--" she smiled through her tears--"that's why I wore my
teeth. They cost me twenty dollars, an' I keep 'em fer high days an'
holidays."