"It is strange," Sister Angela mused, when the bare telling of the story
was over, "how the deep, cruel things in life are met by people in much
the same way--the ignorant and the wise, when they touch the inscrutable
they let go and turn to a higher power than their own. Meredith felt
that her child's chance in life lay in a new and fresh start. The
mountain woman's curse, as she termed it, could only be conquered, so
she pleaded, by giving her grandchild to those who did not know. It
amounts to the same thing.

"Meredith is--gone; the old woman of the hills cannot last long. I
wonder, as to the children--I wonder!"

Doris's eyes were burning and her voice shook when she spoke. Her words
and tone startled Angela.

"Where is the--the mountain child?" she asked.

"Upstairs, my dear. Why, Doris, you are shaking as if you had a chill.
You are ill--let me call Sister Constance."

But Doris stayed her as she rose.

"No, no, Sister. I am only trembling because my feet are set on a
possible way! I am--I am pushing things aside. Tell me, is this child a
girl?"

"Yes."

"How old is it?"