"I have been looking for my baby's grave and cannot find it," she
answered. "There is something wrong, mother. What was done with my
baby? I must know." And she caught her mother's wrists with both of
her hands in a tight grip, and sent searching glances down through
her eyes.

"Your baby is dead," returned Mrs. Dinneford, speaking slowly and
with a hard deliberation. "As for its grave--well, if you will drag
up the miserable past, know that in my anger at your wretched
_mesalliance_ I rejected even the dead body of your miserable
husband's child, and would not even suffer it to lie in our family
ground. You know how bitterly I was disappointed, and I am not one
of the kind that forgets or forgives easily. I may have been wrong,
but it is too late now, and the past may as well be covered out of
sight."

"Where, then, was my baby buried?" asked Edith, with a calm
resolution of manner that was not to be denied.

"I do not know. I did not care at the time, and never asked."

"Who can tell me?"

"I don't know."

"Who took my baby to nurse?"

"I have forgotten the woman's name. All I know is that she is dead.
When the child died, I sent her money, and told her to bury it