me, now? You mean--that I must find a home for it?"

"Yo' done promised--an' it eased Zalie at the end."

Angela reached for the child--she was calm and self-possessed at last.
This was not the first child she had rescued.

"It is--a girl?" she asked, lifting the tiny form.

"Hit's a girl. Give hit a chance."

"I will." Then Angela wrapped the child in the old quilt and turned
toward the door.

"Will you wait until I return?" she paused to ask, but Becky, her eyes
on that picture of the Good Shepherd, replied:

"No--I don let go!"

With that she passed as noiselessly from the room as if she were but a
shadow sinking into the darkness outside.

Angela went upstairs and knocked at Sister Constance's door. Sister
Constance was alert at once. Every faculty of hers was trained to
respond intelligently to taps on the door in the middle of the night.

"This is--a child--a mountain child," whispered Sister Angela. "It has
been left here. Take it into the west wing and tell no one of its
presence until we know whether it will be claimed!"