Rod and Phil had never been in a large hotel before, and they gazed with wonder upon everything they saw.  The elevator, which moved so easily upwards, was a great mystery.  Then the large carpeted hallway through which they passed, where their footsteps could not be heard, and last of all the spacious room into which they were admitted, caused their eyes to bulge with astonishment.  When they were comfortably seated in big chairs, with the singer sitting close to Rod, so she could watch his every movement, the talk naturally drifted off to Hillcrest.  Rod told about the scouts, Whyn, the Britts, Miss Arabella, and his own life at the rectory.  Miss Royanna led him deftly along to tell about these various people, especially Mr. and Mrs. Royal.  Soon she learned much about Rod’s daily work, what he was fond of most of all, and numerous other things concerning his life.

“Have you lived long with your grandparents?” she asked.

“Ever since I was a baby.  I was left there one dark, wild night by my mother.”

“And so you have never seen her?”

“No.  But I have had letters from her, though.  She’s coming to see me sometime this summer.”

“How nice that will be.  Won’t you be glad to see her?”

“In a way I will,” was the slow, doubtful reply.  “But I’m afraid that she’ll want to take me away.”

“Wouldn’t you like to go with your mother?  She must long for you so much.”

“But I don’t know her, you see.  She’s a stranger to me.  I know that I ought to love my mother, but somehow I can’t.”

“Oh!” The exclamation came suddenly from the woman’s lips.  She clasped her hands before her, and stared hard into space.  So this was the outcome of it all? she said to herself.  This was all that she had gained by her years of struggle and self-denial.  She had won fame and money, but what did they amount to when her only boy was a stranger to her, and knew not what it was to love his mother?

“You write to her, I suppose,” she at last remarked.

“Oh, yes.  Every week I get a letter, and I always answer it.  She sends me money, too.”

“Does she?  Isn’t that nice.  You must have plenty of spending money, then.”

“No,” and Rod shook his head.  “Grandad puts it all into the bank for me.  It is to stay there, so he says, until I grow up, and it will be enough then to send me to college.”

“And your grandfather never used any of the money your mother sent to pay for your board and clothing?”

“Not a cent of it.  He said it wouldn’t be right, because he loves me so much.”

The woman remained silent for some time, and Rod thought that her face seemed very sad.  Perhaps she was tired.

“Guess we’d better go now, Phil,” and he turned to his companion who had not opened his lips once.

“What, so soon?” the singer enquired, rousing from her reverie.