Many times had Thomas explained and
apologized for the admittance of the two "forlornities," as he called
them.
No, everything seemed mercifully blurred; and Ann, in her new home,
apparently forgot everything that lay behind her. She never even asked
to go back to Betty's though she welcomed Betty, Brace, and Bobbie with
flattering joy whenever they came to visit. She learned to be very fond
of Lynda--was often sweetly affectionate with her; but in the wonderful
home, her very own, waited upon and cared for, it was Conning who most
appealed to her. For him she watched and waited at the close of day, and
if she were out with Lynda she became nervous and worried if they were
delayed as darkness crept on.
"I want father to see me waiting," she would urge; "I like to see his
gladness."
"And so do I!" Lynda would say, struggling to overcome the unworthy
resentment that occasionally got the better of her when the child too
fervently appropriated Conning.
But this trait of Ann's flattered and delighted Truedale; often he was
amused, but he knew that it was the one thing above all else in the
little girl that endeared her to him.
"What a darling she is!" he often said to Lynda when they were alone
together. "Is she ever naughty?"
"Yes, often--the monkey!"
"I'm glad to hear it. I hate a flabby youngster. Does she ever speak of
her little past, Lyn?"
"Never.
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