she didn't want that to happen for awhile. It was one night after she
was through singing that she met her little boy. He came with another
boy to see her, and asked her to go and sing for a sick girl at
Hillcrest."

With a startled cry of joy, Rod sat up suddenly in bed. His eyes
fairly blazed with excitement, and his body trembled.

"Are you the woman?" he cried. "Am I the boy? Are you my mother? Oh,
tell me quick. Is it really true?"

"Yes, dear," and the woman caught both of his hands in hers, "every
word is true. You are my own boy, and I am your mother. Are you glad?"

The expression upon Rod's face, as with a deep sigh of relief he lay
back once more upon the pillow, was answer enough. All the old dread
that the other mother would come back and carry him off suddenly
disappeared. And yet he wondered about the letters she used to write.
A puzzled look came into his eyes.

"What is it?" his mother asked. "Are you sorry?"

"Oh, no. But I was wondering about that other woman who used to write
to me, who said she was my mother."

"It was I who wrote those letters, dear. I had to, you see."

"And you are not Anna Royanna, after all?"

"No. My real name is Anna Royal. I only changed part of the last name