“Somewhere in the boundless West.  He gave me his promise to reform.”

“He never will.”

“Of course not, and I don’t expect it of him.  You see, I know how hard it is to reform.”

“But mother and father?”

“I’m coming to them.  My dad came around the day after our baby was born and shook hands.  He wanted to stamp right in here and tell you what a fool he had made of himself, but I wouldn’t stand for it.  Finally, when he saw the kid, he blew up entirely, and right away proposed breaking ground for a jasper palace for the youngster.  He wanted to build it in Pittsburg where he could run in, going to and from business.  Mother was just as foolish, too.  Well, when I had had my little understanding with Jim and learned the whole truth about your people I realized that no matter where we went they would be a constant menace to our happiness unless they were provided for.  It struck me that you had made a game fight for happiness, and I couldn’t stand for anything to spoil it at the last minute.  I went to mother and told her the facts, and she seemed to understand as well as I how you must feel in spite of all they had done, so we shook down the governor for an endowment.”

“Bob!  What do you mean?” Lorelei faltered in bewilderment.

“We asked him for a hundred thousand dollars and got it.”

Lorelei gasped.

“He bellowed like a bull, he spat poison like a cobra, he writhed like a bucket of eels, but we put it over.”

“A hundred thousand dollars!” whispered the wife.

“To a penny.  And it’s in the bank to your credit.  But I didn’t stop there.”  Bob’s voice hardened.  “I went to your mother and in your name I promised her the income from it so long, and only so long, as she and Peter stayed away from you.  She accepted—­rather greedily, I thought—­and they have gone back to Vale.  They have your old house, and I have their promise never to see you except upon your invitation.  Of course you can go to them whenever you wish, but—­they’re happy, and I think we will be happier with them in Vale than in New York.  I hope you don’t object to my arrangement.”

There was a long silence, then Lorelei sighed.  “You are a very good man, Bob.  It was my dream to do something of this sort, but I could never have done it so well.”

Her husband bent and kissed her tenderly.  “It wasn’t all my doings; I had help.  And you mustn’t feel sad, for something tells me you’re going to learn finally the meaning of a real mother’s love.”

“Yes—­yes!” The answer came dreamily, then as a fretful complaint issued from the crib at her side Lorelei leaned forward and swiftly gathered the baby into her arms.

“Is he sick?” Bob questioned, in alarm.

“No, silly.  He’s only hungry.”

There in the gathering dusk Bob Wharton looked on at a sight that never failed to thrill him strangely.  In his wife’s face was a beautiful content, and it seemed to him fitting indeed that this country girl who had come to the city in quest of Life should end her search thus, with a baby at her breast.