"And I promised God as I'd try hard to be good ef He'd leave me this yere young 'un as I found lost in the street," she said.  In her sore despair she felt angry against God.  What right had He not to take her at her word, and allow her to be good in her own way?  It had never yet entered into her poor, untaught mind that in keeping little Roy she was keeping what was not her own.  The other folks to whom God had first entrusted him had been careless of so great and precious a trust, so he had been sent to her.  She regarded him as absolutely her own, and no idea of returning him to his people entered once into her head.  Of course they might by great cleverness trace him until they found him, and then they would tear him from her arms; but never, until this happened, would she relinquish him.  What! never! ah! she was not so sure of that.  _Some one else_, even before his own people, might come to take little Roy away--some one who once already had visited this cellar.  Before his call there was no resistance possible.  With one magic touch, this great, awful, and mysterious _some one_ would close the blue eyes and still the baby heart and--yes--yes--yes--break her heart for ever.  A few big, heavy tears fell from her eyes at the terrible thought, but she wiped them away, dreading to disturb the sleeping child.