 CHAPTER 31 AT HOME Oh, Harold, what have you been doing? Jerry exclaimed, stopping short, while a suspicion of the truth began to dawn upon her. That is, the roof Tom told you I was shingling, Harold replied, and taking her by the arm he hurried her on to the cottage where Mrs. Crawford stood in the door, in her broad white apron and the neat muslin cap which Maude had fashioned for her. With a cry of joy Jerry took the old lady in her arms and kissed and cried over her. It is so nice to be home and everything is so pleasant, she said, as her eyes swept the sitting-room and kitchen and back porch where the tea-table was laid with its luscious berries and pictures of cream. Go right upstairs with Harold, I have just come down and can't go up again, Mrs. Crawford said excitedly and with a bound Jerry was up the stairs and in the lovely room. When she saw them coming in the lane Mrs. Crawford had gone up and opened the shutters letting in a flood of light so that nothing should escape Jerry's notice. And she saw it all at a glance, the high walls, the carpet, the furniture, the curtains and the flowers, and knew why Harold did not come to Vassar. He was standing in the bay window watching her and the light fell full upon his shabby clothes which Jerry noticed for the first time, knowing exactly why he must wear them and understanding perfectly all the self-denials and sacrifices he had made for her who had been so angry because he did not come to see her graduate. Had she been younger she would have thrown herself into his arms and cried there. Harold half-thought and hoped she was going to do so now, for she made a rush toward him, then stopped suddenly and sinking into the willow chair began to sob aloud while Harold stood looking at her wondering what he ought to do. Don't you like it, Jerry? He said it last. Like it! and in the eyes which she flashed upon him he read her answer. Like it! I never saw a room I liked better, but why did you do it? Was it because of that foolish speech of mine about knocking my brains out the ceiling was so low? Not at all, Harold replied. I had the idea in my head long before you wrote that to me, but could not quite see my way clear until last spring. I have seen Nina's room and Ma's and have heard that Annalisa Peterkin's was finer than the Queen's at Windsor and I did not like to think of you in the cooped up place this was, with a slanting roof and low windows. I am glad you like it. And then knowing that she would never let him rest until he had done so he told her all the ways and means by which he had been able to accomplish it except indeed his own self-denials and sacrifices of pride and even comfort. But this she understood and looked at the shabby coat and shoes and the calloused hands which lay upon his knees as he talked and which she wanted so much to take in hers and kiss and pity for the hard work they had done for her. But this would have been throwing herself at his head and so she only cried the more as she told him how much she thanked him and that she never could repay him for what he had done for her. But it was a pleasure, he said. I never enjoyed anything in my life as I have working in this room with Ma to help me. She was here nearly every day and by her enthusiasm kept me up to fever heat. She putted up the nail holes and painted your dressing room and would have helped shingle the roof if I had permitted it. She gave you the chair you sit in and the table in the window. She would do that and I let her. But when Mr. Arthur offered his assistance and the other Mr. Tracy I refused for I wanted it all my own for you. He was speaking rapidly and excitedly and had Jerry looked up she would have seen in his face all she was to him, but she did not and at mention of Ma'd a cloud fell suddenly upon her. But she would not let it remain. She would be happy and make Harold so too. So she told him again of her delight and what a joyous coming home it was. She had not yet seen Arthur's card and photograph and note, but Harold called her attention to them and taking up the latter she opened it while her heart gave a throb of something between joy and pain as she saw the words my dear child and then read the note so characteristic of him. What a strange fancy of his to go off suddenly to California. I wonder Mr. Frank allowed it. She said as she put the note in her pocket and then at a call from Mrs. Crawford went down to where the supper was waiting for her. The teacakes were a little cold but everything else was delicious from the fragrant tea to the ripe berries and thick sweet cream and Jerry enjoyed it with the keen relish of youth and perfect health. After supper was over Jerry made her grandmother sit still while she washed and put away the dishes singing as she worked and whistling too, loud clear ringing strains which made a robin in the grass fly up to the porch where with his head turned on one side he listened to this new songster whose notes were strange to him. And Jerry did seem like some joyous bird just let loose from prison as she flitted from one thing to another, now setting her grandmother's cap a little more squarely on her head and bending to kiss the silvery hair as she said to her, your working days are over for I have come home to care for you and in the future you have nothing to do but to sit still with your dear old lame feet on a cushion, now helping Harold water the flowers in the borders and pinning a June pink in his buttonhole. Now going with him to milk Nanny, who either remembering Jerry or recognizing a friend in her, allowed her horn to be decorated with a knot of blue ribbon which Jerry took from her throat and which Harold afterward took from Nanny's horn and hid away with the withered lilies Jerry had thrown him that day at Harvard when her face and her eyes had been his inspiration. They kept early hours at the cottage and the people at the park house were little more than through the grand dinner they were giving when Jerry said good night to her grandmother and Harold and went up to her new room under the raised roof. It was a lovely summer night and the moonlight fell softly upon the grass and shrubs outside and shone far down the long lane where the tramp house stood with its thick covering of woodbine. Leaning from the window Jerry looked out upon the night while a thousand thoughts and fancies came crowding into her brain all born of that likeness seen by her in the mirror when Arthur was with her at Vassar and which Harold too had recognized when she sat with him in the tramp house. After Arthur had left her in May she had been too busy to indulge in idle dreams but they had come back to her again with an overwhelming force which seemed for a few moments to lift the veil of mystery and show her the past for which she was so eagerly longing. The pale face was more distinct in her mind as was the room with a tall white stove and the high-backed seddie beside it and on the seddie a little girl, herself she believed, and she could hear a voice from the cushion chair speaking to her and calling her by the name Arthur had given her in his note. My child he had written but he had only put it as a term of endearment. He had no suspicion of the truth if it were truth and yet why should he not know? Could anything obliterate the memory of a child if there had been one Jerry asked herself? I will know some time. I will find out, she said as she withdrew from the window and commenced her preparations for bed. As she stepped into her dressing room her eyes fell upon the foreign trunk with the contents of which she was familiar. They had been kept intact by Mrs. Crawford who hoped that by them Jerry might some day be identified. Going to the old trunk Jerry lifted the lid and took out the articles one by one with a very different feeling from what she had ever experienced before when handling them. The alpaca dress came first and she examined it carefully. It was coarse and plain and old-fashioned and she felt intuitively that a servant had worn it. The cloak and shawl in which she had been wrapped were inspected next and on these Jerry's tears fell like rain as she thought of the woman who had resolutely put away the covering from herself to save a life which was no part of her own. Oh, Manny! she sobbed, laying her face upon the rough coarse garments. I am not disloyal to you in trying to believe that you were not my mother and could you come back to me, Manny, whoever you are, I'd be to you so loving and true. Tell me, Manny, who I am. Give me some sign that what comes to me so often of that far-off land is true. There was another face than yours which kissed me and other hands dead now as are the dear old hands which shielded me from the cold that awful night have caressed me lovingly. But to this appeal there came no response and Jerry would have been frightened if there had. The shawl, the cloak and the dress were as silent and motionless as she to whom they had belonged and Jerry folded them reverently and putting them aside took out her own clothes next, the little dresses which showed a mother's love and care, the handkerchief marked Jay, the aprons and the picture-book with which she had played and from which it seemed to her she had learned the alphabet standing by a cushion chair before a tall white stove. There was only the fine towel left and Jerry looked wrong and thoughtfully at the letter M embroidered in the corner. Marguerite begins with M, she said, and Gretchen's name was Marguerite. If it were Gretchen who worked this letter I can touch what her hands have touched and she kissed the M as fervently as if it had been Gretchen's lips and Gretchen were her mother. From the old brass ring the key to the trunk and carpet bag were still fastened together with the small key for which no use had ever been found. Jerry had never thought much about this key before but now she held it for a long time while the conviction grew that this was the key to the mystery that could she find the article which this unlocked she would know something definite with regard to herself. But where to look she could not guess and with her brain in a whirl which threatened a violent headache she closed the chest at last and crept wearily to bed just as the clock which Peterkin had set up in one of his towers struck for half past ten and Grace Atherton's carriage was rolling down the avenue from the big dinner at the parkhouse. CHAPTER 32 THE NEXT DAY Jerry was astir the next morning almost as soon as the first robin began to sing under her window. She had left a blind open and the red beams of the rising sun fell upon her face and roused her from a dream of Germany in what she meant to do there. Once fairly awake Germany seemed far away as did the fancies of the previous night. The spell, Miss Merrick or Claire Voyant or whatever one chooses to call it was broken and she began dressing rapidly and noiselessly so as not to awaken her grandmother who slept in the room beneath hers. I shall get the start of her, she said, as she dawned a simple working dress which had done her service during the summer vacations for three successive years. I heard her telling Harold last night to have the tubs and water ready early for she had put off the Monday's washing until I came home as I was sure to bring a pile of soiled clothes. And I have, but my dear grandmother, your poor old twisted hands will not touch them. What is a great strapping girl like me for I'd like to know if it is not to wash her own clothes and yours too, and Jerry knotted resolutely at the fresh young face in the mirror which knotted back with a smile of approbation of the tut ensemble of the figure reflected in the glass. And truly it was a very pretty and pecan't picture she made in her neat calico dress which, as it was three years old at least, was a little too short for her and showed plainly her red stockings and high-heeled slippers with a strap around her instep. Her sleeves were short for she had cut them off and arranged them in a puff above her elbows to save rolling them up and her white bib apron was fastened on each shoulder with a knot of blue ribbon, Harold's favorite color. She had thoroughly brushed her hair and then twisting it into a knot had tucked it under a coquettish muslin cap whose narrow frail just shaded her face. You look like a peasant girl and I believe you are a peasant girl and ought to be working in the fields of Germany this minute. She said to herself, with a mocking curtsy, as she left the mirror and descended to the kitchen, where early as it was she found Harold warming some coffee over a fire of chips and cutting a slice of dry bread. What in the world! she exclaimed, stopping short on the threshold. I meant to be the first on the scene and, lo, here you are before me. What are you doing? Getting my breakfast, Harold replied, turning toward her with a slight shade of annoyance on his face. You see, I have a job. I did not tell you last night that a Mr. Allen, who lives across the river four miles away, looked in one day when I was painting your ceiling and liked it so much that he engaged me to paint one for him. I told him I was only an amateur, but he said he'd rather have me than all the boss painters in Shannondale. He offered me three dollars a day and bored, which means dinner and supper, or fifteen for the job, and I took the last offer as I can make the most of it by beginning early and working late and we need. Here he stopped short, for how could he tell Jerry that the raised roof had taken all his means and that he even owed the grocer for the sugar she had eaten upon her berries and the butcher for the bit of steak bought the previous night for her breakfast and his grandmothers. But Jerry guessed it without his telling, but with her quick instinct and delicate perception knew that no genuine man like Harold cares to have even his best friend know of his poverty if he can help it. Forcing back the tears which sprang to her eyes she said cheerily, Yes, I know, you are kind of second Michelangelo, though I doubt if that old gentleman at your age could have done my room better than you did. I don't wonder Mr. Allen wants you, but you are not going to trap four miles on a hot morning on nothing but bread and coffee and such coffee, muddier than the Missouri River. You shall have a decent breakfast if I can get it for you. Just sit down and rest and see what a vaster with a diploma can do. As she talked she was replenishing the fire with hardwood, putting on the kettle, pouring out the coffee drag saved from yesterday's breakfast and hunting for an egg with which to settle the fresh cup she intended to make. No, no, Jerry, you must not take that, it is all we have in the house, and Grandma must have a fresh one every day at eleven o'clock, the doctor says, it strengthens her. Harold said rising quickly, while Jerry put the one egg back in the box and asked what Mrs. Crawford did settle coffee with. I'm sure I don't know, cold water I guess, Harold said resuming his seat, while Jerry tripped here and there laying the cloth, bringing his cup and saucer and plate, and at last pouncing on the bit of steak in the refrigerator. But here Harold again interfered. Jerry, Jerry, that is for your breakfast and Grandma's, you must not take that. But I shall take half of it, I would rather have a glass of nanny's milk any time than meat, and you are going to have my share. So Mr. Hastings, just mind your business and let the cook alone, or she'll be given you warnin'," Jerry answered laughingly as she divided the steak which she proceeded at once to broil. So Harold let her have her way, and felt an increase of self-respect and that he was something more than a common day laborer as he ate his steak and buttered toast, and drank the coffee which seemed to him the best he had ever tasted. Jerry picked him a few strawberries, and laid beside his plate a beautiful half-opened rose with the dew still upon it. It was a delicate attention, and Harold felt it more than all she had done for him. Thank you, Jerry, he said, picking up the rose as he finished his breakfast. It was so nice in you to think of it, just as if I were a king instead of a jack at all trades, but I hardly think it suits my blue-checked shirt and painty pants. Keep it yourself, Jerry, and he held it up against her white bib apron. It is just like the pink on your cheeks. Wear it for me, and taking a pin from his collar he fastened it rather awkwardly to the bib while his face came in so close proximity to Jerry's that he felt her breath stir his hair and felt, too, a strong temptation to kiss the cheeks so near his own. There, that completes your costume, he said, holding her off a little to look at her. By the way, haven't you got yourself up uncommonly well this morning? I never saw you as pretty as you are in this rig. If it would not be very improper, I'd like to kiss you. She was astonished at his own boldness and not at all surprised at Jerry's reply as she stepped back from him. No, thank you. It would be highly improper for a man who stands six feet in his boots to kiss a girl who stands five feet six in her slippers. There was a flush on her cheeks and a strange look in her eyes, for she was thinking of Harvard, where he had put her from him ashamed that strangers should see her kiss him. Harold had forgotten that incident, which at the time had made no impression upon him, and was now thinking only of the beautiful girl whose presence seemed to brighten and a noble everything with which she came in contact, and to whom he at last said goodbye, just as Peterkin's tower clock struck for half past five. I must go now, he said, taking up his basket of brushes. I have lost a full half hour with you and your stakes and your coddling me generally. I ought to have been there by this time. Goodbye. And, offering her his hand, he started down the lane at a rapid pace, thinking the morning the loveliest he had ever known and wondering why everything seemed so fresh and bright and sweet. If he could have sung, he would have done so. But he could not, so he talked to himself and to the birds and rabbits and squirrels which sprang up before him as he struck into the woods as the shortest route to Mr. Allen's farmhouse. Talk to them of Jerry and how delightful it was to have her home again, unspoiled by flattery, sweet and gracious as ever, and how he longed to tell her of his love, but dared not, until he was sure of her and of what she felt for him. He had no faith now in her fancies with regard to herself. Of the likeness to Arthur which he thought he saw the previous day, there had been no trace that morning when he pinned the rose upon her bib. She could not be Gretchen's daughter, and was undoubtedly the child of the woman found dead in the trap-house. It is Jerry whom he had found and claimed as his own, and whom he meant to win some day when he had his profession and was established in business. But that will be a long, long time and someone else may steal her from me, he said to himself sadly, as he thought of the years which must elapse before he could venture to take a wife. Oh, if I were sure she cared for me as I do for her, I would ask her now and have it settled, for Jerry is not a girl to go back on her promise, and the years would seem so short and the work so easy with Jerry at the end of it all, he continued, and then he wondered how he could find out the nature of Jerry's feeling for him without asking her directly, and so spoiling everything if he should happen to be premature. Would his grandmother know? Not at all, likely. She was too old to know much of love or its symptoms in a girl. Would Nina St. Clair know? Possibly for she and Jerry were great friends, and girls always told each other their secrets, so Maude said, and Maude was just then his oracle. He had seen so much of her the last few months that he felt as if he knew her even better than he did Jerry, and he was certainly more at his ease in her presence. Then why not talk with Maude and enlist her as a partisan? He might certainly venture to make her his confidant. She had been so very communicative and familiar with him, telling him things which she had wondered at with regard to her father and mother and Tom, and the family generally. Yes, he would sound Maude very cautiously at first, and get her opinion, and then he should know better what to do. Maude would espouse his cause he was sure for she worshipped Jerry. He could trust her and he would. He had reached the Allen farmhouse by this time, and though he was perspiring at every pore, for the morning was very hot, he scarcely felt the heat or the fatigue of his rapid four-mile walk as he mixed his paints and prepared for his work, for there was constantly in his heart a thought of Jerry as she had looked in that bewitching dress and of the bright smile she had given him when she said goodbye. Meanwhile Jerry had watched him out of sight whistling merrily. Gin, a body, meet a body, coming through the rye. Gin, a body, kiss a body, need a body, cry. And whistling it so loud and clear that Nanny came to the fence and put her head over it with a faint low of approval while Clovertop thrust his white nose through the bars and looked at her inquiringly as Jerry pulled up handfuls of fresh grass and fed them from her hands, noticing that Nanny had lost her knot of ribbon and wondering where it was. Then she returned to the house and was busying herself with preparations for her grandmother's breakfast and her own when the latter appeared in the kitchen, surprised to find her there and saying, Why, Jerry, what made you get up till I called you? Why didn't you lie and rest? Lie and rest, Jerry answered, laughingly. It is you who are to lie and rest and not a great overgrown girl like me. I have given Harold his breakfast and seen him off. I cooked him half the steak, she added, as she took out the remaining half and put it on the gridiron. I don't care for steak, she continued, as she saw Mrs. Crawford about to protest. I would rather any time have bread and milk and strawberries. I shall never tire of them. And the big bowl full which she ate with the keen relish proved that she spoke the truth. Now, grandma, she said when breakfast was over, I am going to do the washing. I must do something to work off my superfluous health and strengthened muscle. Look at that arm, will you? And she threw out her bare arm which for whiteness and roundness and symmetry of proportion might have been coveted by the most fashionable lady in the land. Go back to your rocking chair and rest your dear old lame foot on your softest cushion and see how soon I will have everything done. It is just seven now and by ten we shall be all slicked up, as Anne Eliza Peterkin says. It was of no use to try to resist, Jerry. She would have her own way. And so Mrs. Crawford, after skimming her milk and attending to the cream, went to her rocking chair and her cushion and sat there quietly while Jerry in the woodshed pounded and rubbed and boiled and rinsed and rung and starched and blued and hung upon the line article after article until there remained only a few towels and aprons and stockings and socks and a pair of colored overalls which Harold had worn at his work. As these last were rather soiled and had on them patches of paint, Jerry was attacking them with a will when her grandmother called out with great trepidation. Jerry, Jerry, do wipe your hands and come quick. Here's Tom Tracy hitching his horse to the gate. Jerry's first impulse was to do as her grandmother bad her and her second to stay where she was. If Tom chooses to call so early he must take me as he finds me, she thought, while to her grandmother she said. Nonsense. Who cares for Tom Tracy? If he asks for me, send him to the woodshed. I can't stop my work. In a moment the elegant Tom, fresh from his perfumed bath, the odor of which still lingered about him, and faultlessly attired in a cool summer suit, was bending his tall figure in the doorway of the woodshed where Jerry, who was rubbing away on Harold's overalls, received him with a nod and a smile as she said. Good morning, Tom. You are up early and so was I. Business before pleasure, you know. So I hope you will excuse me if I keep right on. I have stinted myself to get through mopping and all by ten, and it is now nine by Peterkin's bell. Pray be seated, how is mod? And she pointed to a wooden chair near the door where Tom sat down, holding on plust and not knowing at all what to say first. Never before had he been received in this fashion, and it struck him that there was something incongruous between himself and his dainty attire, with a cluster of beautiful roses in his hand, and that chair minus a vac in the woodshed, where the smell of soap suds would have made him faint and sick if he had not been near the open door. Tom had not slept well the previous night. He had joined the fine dinner party his mother had given to the hearts, and St. Clairs and Athertons, and had sat next to Fred Raymond's sister Marion, a very pretty young girl with a good deal that was foreign in her style and in her accent for she had been in Europe nine years, and had only just come home. Everything in her manner was perfect, and Tom acknowledged to himself that she was the most highly polished and cultivated girl he had ever met, and still she tired him, and he was constantly contrasting her with Jerry and thinking how much better he would enjoy himself if she were there beside him, with her ready wit and teasing remarks which frequently amounted to ridicule. Jerry had been very gracious to him on the train and had laughed and joked with him quite as much as she had with Dick St. Clair. Perhaps she likes me more than I have supposed she did, he thought. Anyway I'd better be on hand, now she is at home and can see Harold every day. He don't care a copper from odd, or wooden if she didn't run after him so much, and that will sicken him pretty soon now that he has Jerry. By George I believe I'd be poor as he is and paint for a living if I couldn't have Jerry without it. But I think I can, anyway I'm going to try. She cannot be insensible to the advantage it would be to her to be my wife, and eventually the mistress of Tracy Park. There is not a girl in the world who would not consider twice before she threw such a chance away. Such was the nature of Tom's reflections all through the dinner and the short summer night during which he was planning his mode of attack. I'll call in the morning and take her some roses. She likes flowers, he thought. I wonder what she did with those I gave her at Vassar. They were not with her in the car unless she had put them in that paper box she carried so carefully. Yes, I guess they were there and I shall see them standing round somewhere. And this was the secret of Tom's early call. He had thought at first to walk, but had changed his mind and driven down to the cottage in his light buggy with the intention of asking Jerry to drive with him along the river road. But she did not look much like driving as she stood by the wash tub in that working-dress which he thought the most charming of anything he had ever seen. I was coming this way, he said at last, and thought I'd stop and see how you stood the journey and I've brought you some roses. He held them toward her and with a smile she came forward to receive them. Oh, thank you, Tom, she said. It was so kind in you. Roses are my favorites after the white-pond lilies and these are very sweet. She buried her face in them two or three times and then putting them in some water resumed her position by the wash tub. I'd like you to drive with me, Tom said, but I see you are too busy. Must you do that work, Jerry? Can't somebody, can't your grandmother do it for you? Grandmother, that old lady do my washing? No indeed, Jerry answered scornfully as she made a dive into the boiler with a clothes-stick and brought out a pair of Mrs. Crawford's long-knit stockings which she dropped into the rinsing water with a splash. Grandma has worked enough, she continued, as she plunged both her arms into the water. Harold and I shall take care of her now. He was up this morning at four o'clock and has gone to Mr. Allen's to paint a room for him like mine. She said this a little defiantly for she felt hot and resentful that Tom Tracy should be sitting there at his ease while Harold was working for his daily bread and also took a kind of bitter pride in letting Tom know that she was not ashamed of Harold's work. Yes, Tom drawled, that new room must have cost Hal his bottom dollar. We all wondered how he could afford it. I hope you like it. She was too angry to tell him whether she liked it or not, for she knew his speech was prompted by a mean spirit and she kept on rubbing a towel until there was danger of its being rubbed into shreds. Then suddenly remembering that Tom had not told her of Maud, she repeated her question. How is Maud? She was coming to see me this morning. I hope I shall have my work done before she gets here. Don't hurry yourself for Maud, Tom replied. She will not be here today. I had nearly forgotten that she sent her love and wants you to come there. She is sick in bed or was when I left. She had a slight haemorrhage last night. I think it was from her stomach, though, and so does mother, but father is scared to death as he always is if Maud has a pain in her little finger. Oh, Tom! Jerry said, recalling with a pang the thin face, the blue veined hands, and the tired look of the young girl at the station. Oh, Tom, why didn't you tell me before so I could hurry and go to her? And leaning over her tub, Jerry began to cry, while Tom looked curiously at her, wondering if she really cared so much for his sister. Don't cry, Jerry. He said at last very tenderly for him. Maud is not so bad. The doctor has no fear. She is only tired with all she has done lately. You know, perhaps, that she was here constantly with Harold, and I believe she actually painted for him some, and for ought I know helped shingle the roof, as Billy said. Yes, I know, I understand, Jerry replied. I saw it in her face yesterday. She has tired herself out for me, and if she dies I shall hate the room for ever. But she will not die, that is nonsense, Tom began when he was interrupted by Mrs. Crawford who called out, Oh, Jerry, here is Billy Peterkin with his hands full, what shall I do with him? Dashing away her tears, Jerry replied, Send him in here, of course. In a few moments the dapper little man was in the woodshed with a large bouquet of hot-house flowers in one hand and a basket of delicious black caps in the other. For a moment he stood staring first at Tom on the wooden chair glaring savagely at him, and then at Jerry by the wash-tub with the traces of tears on her face, then with a kind of forced laugh he said, Big pardon, if I intrude. Looks dustily like love in a t-t-tub. And if it is you have knocked the bottom out, Tom said to him. Both jokes were atrocious but they made Jerry laugh which was something. She was glad on the whole that Billy had come and when he offered her the berries and the flowers she accepted them graciously and let him sit down if he could find a seat. Here is one on the washbench, she said, or will be when I have emptied the tub, and she was about to take up the latter when Billy sprang to her assistance and emptied it himself while Tom sat looking on, chafing with anger and disgust. After a moment Billy stuttered out. And Eliza sent me here and wants you to come and see her rooms. Got a sweet, you know. And by jove they are like a b-bizarre, they are so full of things and flowers. Half Vassar is there. Got your basket of daisies, Tom, and when I asked her where she got them she said it was none of my business. Did she steal them? And he turned to Jerry whose face was scarlet as she replied. No, I gave them to her with a lot of others. I couldn't bring them all. Tom could have beaten the air, he was so angry. He had been vain enough to hope that his gift was carefully put away in some box or parcel, and lo, it was in the possession of the red-haired Peterkin girl whose pa-champ for himself he suspected and whom he despised accordingly. Much obliged to you for giving away my flowers, he was going to say, when Mrs. Crawford called again, and this time in real distress. Jerry, Jerry, you must come now, for here is Dick St. Clair. For an instant Jerry hesitated and then ashamed of the feeling which had at first prompted her not to let Dick into the woodshed, she replied. If Tom and Billy can be admitted to my boudoir, Dick can. Put him in. By George, this is Jolly, Dick said, as he seated himself upon the inverted wash-tub which Billy had emptied. Have you all been washing? No, Jerry answered proudly, I am the washerwoman, and all those clothes you see on the line are my handiwork. By George, Dick said again, you are a Trump, Jerry, why didn't you wear that dress when you were graduated? It's the prettiest costume I ever saw. That's what I think, only I didn't dare tell her so, Billy cried springing to his feet and hopping about like a little sparrow. How is Nina? Jerry asked, ignoring the compliment. Break as a bee, Dick replied, and sends an invitation for you and Al to come over to a garden tea to-night to meet Marion Raymond, Fred's sister. Awful pretty girl with an accent like a foreigner, was over there several years, you know. I was going to the parkhouse to invite you and Maude, he continued turning to Tom, but as you are here it will save me the walk. Half past five sharp. Then as his eye fell upon Billy, in whose face there was a look of expectancy, his countenance clouded, for Nina had given him no instructions to invite the Peterkins, and he felt that there was nothing in common between Anne Eliza Peterkin and the refined and aristocratic Marion Raymond, who had seen the best society in Europe, and in whose veins some of Kentucky's bluest blood was flowing. But Dick was very kind-hearted and never knowingly wounded the feelings of any one if he could help it, and after an awkward moment during which he was wondering what Nina would do to him if he did it, he turned to Billy and said, as naturally as if it were what he had been expressly bitten to say. Why, I shan't have to walk over to Lebatot either. I'm in luck this hot morning, if you will take the invitation to your sister, for half past five. Thanks, Billy began, but am I left out? Of course not, I'm an awful blunderer, Dick said, adding mentally, and liar too, though I didn't say anybody would be happy to see them. Poor Billy, he is well enough, and so is Anne Eliza, if she wouldn't pile that red hair so high on the top of her head and wear so much jewellery. Well I am in for it, and Nina can't any more than kill me. By this time Jerry was putting away the washing paraphernalia and sweeping the woodshed, thus indicating that she had no more time to lose with her three callers, two of whom, Dick and Billy took the hint and left, but not until she had explained to the former that she feared it would be impossible for Harold to be present at the garden party, as she knew he would not be home until late and would then be quite too tired for company. I am sorry that he cannot join us, I counted upon him, Dick said. But you will come, of course, and I offer my services on the spot to see you home. Do you accept them? Jerry seemed to see without looking the disappointment in Billy's face and the wrath in Tom's, but as she greatly preferred Dick's society to theirs in a walk from grassy spring to the cottage, she accepted his offer, and then said, laughingly, Now good morning to you and good riddance, too, for I am in an awful hurry. I am going over to see Maud as soon as I can get myself ready. She had not thought that Tom would wait for her and would greatly have preferred to walk, but Tom was persistent, and moving his chair from the woodshed outside into the shade where it was cooler, he sat fanning himself with his hat and watching the long line of clothes flopping in the wind with a feeling of mortified pride as if his own wife had washed them. He knew that his mother had once been familiar with tubs and washboards and soap-suts, but that was before his day. Twenty-seven years had wiped all that out, and he really felt that to be a Tracy and live at Tracy Park was an honor scarcely less than to be President of the United States, and Jerry, he was sure would see it as such when once the chance was offered her. She could not be so blind to her own interest as to refuse one who was so much sought after by the bells of Saratoga and Newport where he had spent a part of two or three seasons. He had been best man at the great wedding in Springfield and groomsman at another big affair in Boston and had scores of invitations everywhere. Taken all together he was a most desirable peltee, and he was rather surprised at his infatuation for the girl whom he had found in the suds and who was not ashamed that he had thus seen her. This was while he was watching the clothes on the line and scowling at three pairs of coarse, vulgar stockings which he knew belonged to Mrs. Crawford and at the pair of blue overalls which were heralds. Yes, I do wonder at my interest in that nameless girl whose mother was a common peasant woman, he thought, but when the nameless girl appeared fresh and bright and dainty as if she had never seen a wash tub with her hat on her arm and two of his roses pinned on the bosom of her dress he forgot the peasant woman and the lack of a name and thought only of the lovely girl who signified that she was ready. It was very cool in the pine woods where the heat of the summer morning had not yet penetrated and Tom who was enjoying himself immensely suggested that they leave the park and take a short drive on the river road. But Jerry said no very decidedly. It would be hot there and she was anxious to be with Maude as soon as possible. So they drove on until they reached the grounds which surrounded the house and where they were met by Mr. Tracy. CHAPTER 33 AT THE PARK HOUSE It was six months since Jerry had seen Frank Tracy and in that time he had changed so much that she looked at him wonderingly as he came toward her with a smile on his haggard face and an eager welcome in his voice as he gave her both his hands and told her how glad he was to see her. His hair was very white and she noticed how he stooped as he walked with her to the house and told her how anxiously Maude was waiting for her. But she cannot talk just yet. He said, you must do all that. The doctor tells us there is no danger if she has kept quiet for a few days. Oh, Jerry, what if I should lose Maude after all? They were ascending the staircase now and Frank was holding Jerry's hand while she tried to comfort and reassure him and then thanked him for the fruit and the flowers he had sent to the cottage for her the day before. You are so good to me, she said, you and Mr. Arthur. How lonely the house seems without him. Yes, Frank replied, though in his heart he felt his brother's absence as a relief for his presence was a constant reproach to him and helped to keep alive the remorse which was always tormenting him. The sight of Jerry was a pain but she held a nameless fascination for him and he was constantly wondering what she would say and do when she knew as he was morally sure she would some time know what he had done. He was thinking of this now and saying to himself, she will not be as hard upon me as Arthur as he led her up the stairs and stopped at the door of Arthur's rooms. Would you like to go in? He asked. I have the keys. And he proceeded to unlock the door. But Jerry held back. No, she said, it is like a grave. The ruling spirit is gone. But you forget Gretchen. She is here and one of Arthur's last injunctions was that I should visit her every day and tell her he was coming back. I have not seen her this morning. Come. He was leading her now by the wrist through the front parlor where the furniture and its white shrouds looked like ghosts and the pictures were covered with Ptoleton. It was dark too in the Gretchen room but Frank threw open the blinds and led in a flood of light upon the picture before which Jerry stood with feelings such as she had never experienced before when she looked upon that lovely face. A new idea had taken possession of Jerry since she had last seen that picture and while unsuspected by her Frank was studying first her features and then those of Gretchen she was struggling frantically with memories of the past. Oh, I can almost remember. She whispered just as Frank's voice broke the spell by saying, Good morning Gretchen. Here is in California but he is coming back. He bad me tell you so. Is he crazy as well as Mr. Arthur? Are we all crazy together? Jerry asked herself as she washed him closing the blinds and shutting out the sunlight from the room so that the picture was in shadow. I have kept my promise to Arthur and now for Maude, Frank said as he accompanied Jerry to Maude's room. On the threshold they met Mrs. Frank just coming out elegantly attired in a muslin wrapper with more lace and embroidery upon it than Jerry had ever worn in her life. Her hair was carefully dressed, her face was powdered and her manner was one of languor and fine ladyism which she had cultivated so assiduously and achieved so successfully. Not a muscle of her face changed when she saw Jerry but she closed Maude's door quickly and stepping into the hall offered the tips of her fingers as she said in a fretful rather than a welcoming tone. Good morning, you are very late. Maude expected you two hours ago, almost immediately after Tom went out. She has worked herself into a great state of feverish nervousness. I am so sorry, Jerry replied, but I could not come sooner. I had a large washing to do and that takes time, you know. Jerry meant no reflection upon the days when Dolly had done her own washing and knew that it took time but the lady thought she did and a frown settled upon her face as she replied. Maybe your grandmother might have helped you or Harold, and Maude is so impatient and weak this morning. The doctor says there is no danger if she has kept quiet. She is only tired out with that room of yours. Why, I am told she has actually puttied up nail-holes and painted walls and sawed boards. I hope you like it. You ought to, for a part of Maude's life and strength is in it. Oh, Mrs. Tracey, Jerry cried. I am so sorry. Of course I liked the room or did, but if it has injured Maude I shall hate it. Dolly had given her a little stab and was satisfied so she said in a softer tone. Maude may recover. I think she will. But everything must be done to please her and she cannot talk to you this morning. Remember that and you must not stay too long. Mama, Mama, let Jerry in! Came faintly from the closed room and then Mrs. Tracey stood aside and let Jerry pass into the luxurious apartment where Maude lay upon a silken couch with a soft rose-cutter chawl thrown over her shoulders, her eyes large and bright and her face as white almost as a corpse. One looking at her needed not to be told of the peril there was in exciting her, and Jerry felt a cold chill creep over her as she went to the couch and, kneeling beside it, kissed the quivering lips and smoothed the dark hair, while she tried to speak naturally and cheerfully as if in her mind there was no thought of danger to the beautiful girl, who smiled so lovingly upon her and kept caressing her hands and her face as if she would thus express her gladness to see her. I know all about it, Maude, Jerry said. Tom told me, and your mother. You tired yourself out for me. Hush! Don't speak or I shall go away! She continued as she saw Maude's lips move. You are not to talk. You are to listen just for a day or two and then you will be better and come to the cottage and see my lovely room. It is so pretty and I like it so much and thank you and Harold so much. He has gone to the allen farm to date to paint, she said in answer to an eager, questioning look in Maude's eyes. He does not know you are sick. He will come when he can see you, to-morrow maybe. Would you like to have him? A pressure of the hand was Maude's reply as the moisture gathered upon her heavy eyelashes. That Jerry kissed it away and then talked to her of whatever she thought would please her. Once she made her laugh as she took off little Billy imitating his voice so perfectly that a person outside would have said he was in the room. Jerry's talent for imitation and ventriloquism had not deserted her, although she did not so often practice it as when a child. But she brought it into full play now to amuse Maude and imitated every individual of whom she spoke except Arthur. He was the one person whose peculiarities she could not take off. I have been to Mr. Arthur's room, she said, but it seemed so desolate without him. Do you hear from him often? I have only had one letter, and then he was in Salt Lake City at the Continental, in a room he said was big enough for three rooms and had not a single bad smell in it except the curtains which were new and in which he did detect a little odor. Here Maude laughed again while there came into her face a faint color and a look which made Jerry's breath come quickly as for the first time the thought flashed across her mind that if what she had been foolish enough to dream of were true Maude was her cousin, her own flesh and blood. Maude, she said suddenly, with a strong desire to fold the frail little body in her arms and tell her what she had thought. But when Maude looked up inquiringly at her she only put her head down upon the shawl and began to cry. Then, regardless of consequences, Maude raised herself upon her elbow and laying her face on Jerry's head began herself to cry piteously. Jerry, Jerry, she sobbed, you think I am going to die. I know you do and so does everybody, but I am not. I cannot die when there is so much to live for and my home is so beautiful and I love everybody so much and— Terrified beyond measure, Jerry put her hand over Maude's mouth and said almost sharply, if you want to live you must not talk. Be careful and you will get well, the doctor says so. But Jerry's fears billied her words when she saw the pallor in Maude's face as she sank back upon her pillow exhausted while with her handkerchief she wiped a faint coloring of blood from her lips. I have stayed too long, Jerry said, as she arose from her seat by the couch. Then Maude spoke again in a whisper. And Harold soon? I will, Jerry replied, and kissing the deathlike face she went softly from the room thinking to herself as she descended the stairs. I believe I could give Harold to her now. CHAPTER 34 UNDER THE PINES WITH TOM Jerry found Tom just where she had left him on the piazza outside waiting for her it would seem, for the moment she appeared he arose and going with her down the steps walked by her side along the avenue toward the point where she would turn aside into the road which led to the cottage. How did you find Maude? He asked. Weaker than I supposed, Jerry replied, and so tired. Oh, Tom, I know she hurt herself worrying about my room as she did and what if she should die? Nonsense! Tom answered carelessly. Maude won't die. She's got the Tracy Constitution which nothing can kill. Don't fret about your room. Maude liked being there. Nothing could keep her away. And don't flatter yourself that it was all love for you which took her there so much for it wasn't. She is just mashed with Harold while he, well, what can a young man do when a pretty girl, and Maude is pretty when she gushes at him all the time? It is a regular flirtation and everybody knows about it except mother and the gov. Who is the gov? Jerry asked sharply. Why, you vassers must be very innocent. Tom replied with a laugh, not to know that gov is one's respected sire. The old man some call him but I am more respectful. My gracious, though, isn't it sweltering? I'm nearly baked, you make me walk so fast, and he wiped the great drops of sweat from his forehead. Why don't you go back then? Jerry asked. I am going home with you, he replied. Do you think I'd let you go alone? Go alone! Jerry repeated, stopping short and fixing her blue eyes upon him. You have let me go alone a hundred times and after dark, too, when I was much smaller than I am now, and alas able to defend myself, supposing there was anything to fear which there is not. Pray, go back, and not trouble yourself for me. I shall not go back, Tom said. I awaited on purpose to come with you. There is something I must say to you and I may as well say it now as any other time. Jerry was tall, but Tom was six inches taller, and he was looking down into her eyes with an expression in his, before which hers fell, for she guessed what it was he wished to say to her, and her heart beat painfully as, without another word, she walked rapidly on until they were in the woods, near a place where four tall pines formed a kind of oblong square. Here an iron seat had been placed years before when the Tracy children were young, and held what they called their picnics under the thick boughs of the pines which shaded them both from heat and cold. Laying his hand on Jerry's shoulder Tom said to her, Sit here with me under the pines while I tell you what for long time I have wanted to tell you and which may as well be told at once. Jerry did not speak, but she sat down upon the seat and, taking off her hat, began to fan herself with it, while, with the end of her parasol, she tried to trace letters in the thick carpet of dead pine needles at her feet. Her attitude was not encouraging, and a less conceited man than Tom would have felt disheartened, but he was not. No girl would be insane enough to refuse Tom Tracy of Tracy Park, and at last he made the plunge and told her of his love for her and his desire to make her his wife. I know I was a mean little scamp when I was a boy, he said, and did a lot of things for which I am ashamed, but I always thought you the prettiest little girl I ever saw, and now I think you the prettiest big one, and I have had splendid opportunities for seeing girls. You know I have traveled a great deal and been in the very best society, and if I may say it, I think I can marry almost anyone whom I choose. I used to fear lest you and Hal would hit it off together, or rather, that he would try to get you, but since he and Maude are so thick, my fears in that quarter have vanished, and I am constantly building castles as to what we will do. I did not mean to ask you quite so soon, but the sight of you this morning washing your clothes with all that soapy steam in your face decided me not to put it off. A Tracy has no business in a wash tub. Did no Tracy ever wash her own clothes? Jerry asked with an upward and side-wise turn of her head, habitual with her when startled or stirred. There was a ring in her voice which Tom did not quite like, but he answered promptly, Oh, of course, years ago. But times change, and you certainly ought not to be familiar with such vulgar things, and at Tracy Park it will be surrounded with every possible luxury. Father and Maude and Uncle Arthur will be overjoyed to have you there, and if on my part, love and money can make you happy, you certainly will be so. You have plenty of money of your own, Jerry said, with another upward toss of her golden head. The question was full of sarcasm, but Tom did not detect it and answered it once. Why, yes, or I shall have in time. Uncle Arthur, you know, is in no condition to make a will now. It would not stand a minute. All the lawyers say that. You have taken counsel, then. The parasol dug a great hole in the soft pines and was in danger of being broken, as Tom replied. Oh, yes, we are sure of that. Whatever Uncle Arthur has, and it is more than a million, will go to Father and after him to Maude and me. So you are sure to be rich and to be the mistress of Tracy Park which will naturally come to me. Think, Jerry. What a different life you will lead at the Park House from what you do now, washing old Mrs. Crawford's stockings and Harold's overalls. Yes, I am thinking, Jerry answered very low, and if Tom had followed the end of her parasol he would have seen that it was forming the word Gretchen in front of him. Suppose Mr. Arthur has a wife somewhere, Jerry asked. A wife, Tom exclaimed. That is impossible. We should have heard of that. Who was Gretchen? As the next query. Oh, some sweetheart, I suppose. Some little German girl with whom he amused himself a while and then cast off, as men usually do such incumbrances. Tom did not quite know himself what he was saying or what it implied, and he was not at all prepared to see the parasol stuck straight into the ground while Jerry sprang to her feet and confronted him fiercely. Tom Tracy, if you mean to insinuate a thing which is not good and pure against Gretchen, I'll never speak to you as long as I live. Take back what you said about Mr. Arthur's casting her off. She was his wife and you know it. Dead, perhaps. I think she is, but she was his wife, his true and lawful wife, and I, sometimes... She could not add, think she was my mother, for the word stuck in her throat where her heart seemed to be beating wildly and choking her utterance. Why, Jerry, Tom said, startled at her excited appearance and anxious to appease her. What ails you? I hardly know what I said and if I have offended you I am sorry. I know nothing of Gretchen, her face is a good one and a pretty one, and Maude says you look like her, though I don't see it, for I think you far prettier than she. Perhaps she was my uncle's wife, but that does not injure my prospects, for of course she is dead or she would have turned up before this time. We have nothing to fear from her. She may have left a child. What then? Jerry asked, with a steady a voice as she could command. Shaa, humbug! Tom replied with a laugh. That is impossible. A child would have been hurt from before this time. There is no child. I'm sure I hope not, as that would seriously interfere with our prospects. Think of someone, say a young lady, walking in upon us some day and claiming to be Arthur Tracey's daughter. What would you do? Jerry asked in a tone of smothered excitement. I believe I'd kill her, Tom said laughingly, or marry her if I had not already seen you. But don't worry about that. There is no child. There is nothing between us and a million, and you have only to appoint the day which will make me the happiest of men and free you from a drudgery which just to think of sets my teeth on edge. Will you name the day, Jerry? If it had been possible for a look to have annihilated Tom the scorn which blazed in Jerry's eyes would have done so. To hear him talk as if the matter were settled and the money he was to inherit from his uncle could buy her made her blood boil, and seizing her poor parasol, still standing up so straight in the fine needles, she stepped backward from him and said in a mocking voice, Thank you, Tom, for the honor you would confer upon me and which I must decline. For I would rather wash Grandma's stockings all my life and Harold's overalls too than marry a man for money. Jerry, oh Jerry, you don't mean it. You do not refuse me. Tom cried in alarm, stretching out his arm to reach her, but touching only the parasol to which he clung desperately as a drowning man to a straw. I do mean it, Tom, she said, softened a little by the pain she saw in his face. I can never be your wife. But why not, Tom demanded. Many a girl who stands higher socially in the world than you would gladly bear my name. I might have married Governor Story's daughter at Saratoga last summer, but one thought of you was enough to keep me from her. You cannot be an earnest. But I am. I care nothing for your money which may or may not be yours. I do not love you, Tom, and without love I would not marry a prince. It was very hard for Tom to believe that Jerry really meant to refuse him, who with all his love for her, and he did love her as well as he was capable of loving anyone, still felt that he was stooping or at least was honoring her greatly when he asked her to be his wife. And she had refused him, and kept on refusing him in spite of all he could say, and worse than all made him feel at last that she did not consider it an honor to be Mrs. Tom Tracy of Tracy Park, and did not care either for him or his perspective fortune. She called it that finally, and then Tom grew angry and taunted her with fostering a hope that Arthur might make her his heir or at least leave her some portion of his money. But I tell you he can't do it. A crazy man's will would never stand and he is crazy and you know it. You will never touch a daughter of Uncle Arthur's money if you live to be a hundred unless it comes to you from me. Don't flatter yourself that you will, and don't flatter yourself either that you will ever catch Hal Hastings who is the real obstacle in my way. He is after Maude, who ought to look higher than a painter, a carpenter, a Tom Tracy, and Jerry's parasol was raised so defiantly and her eyes flashed so indignantly that Tom did not finish what he was going to say, but cowered before the angry girl who hurled her words at him with such scathing vehemence. Tom Tracy, stop. You have said enough. When you made me believe that you really did care for me, and I suppose you must, or you would not have thrown over a governor's daughter for me, or left so many love-lorn high-born maidens out in the cold, I was sorry for you, for I hate to give any one pain, and I would rather have you my friend than my enemy. But when you taught me with expectations from your uncle. Here Jerry paused, for the lump in her throat would not suffer the words to come, and there arose before her as if painted upon canvas the low room, the white stove, the firelight on the whiter face, and the little child in the far-off German city. But she would have died sooner than have told Tom of this, or that the conviction was strong upon her that she would one day stand there under the pines herself the heiress of Tracy Park, Gretchen's memory honored, and Gretchen's wrongs wiped out. After a moment she went on, I care nothing for your money and less for you who show them meanest there is in your nature when you speak of herald hastings as you have done. Suppose he is poor, suppose he is a painter and a carpenter and has been what you started to call him, is he less a man for that? Eight thousand times no, and if Maud has won his love she should be prouder of it than of a duchess's coronet. I do not wish to wound you, but when you talk of herald you make me so mad. Good morning. It is time for me to be at my dredgery as you call it. She walked swiftly away leaving her parasol which she had again thrust into the ground, flopping in the breeze which had just sprung up and each flop seemed to mock the discomfited Tom who greatly astonished but not at all out of conceit with himself sat looking blankly after her as with her head and shoulders more erect than usual if possible she went on almost upon a run until a turn in the road hit her from view. Then he arose and shook himself together and picking up the soiled parasol folded it carefully and put it upon the seat saying as he did so. Why George did that girl know what she was about when she refused me? End of Chapter thirty-three and thirty-four. CHAPTER thirty-five and thirty-six of Gretchen by Mary Jane Holmes. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. CHAPTER thirty-five THE GARDEN PARTY Jerry walked very rapidly toward home almost running at times and not at all conscious of the absence of her parasol or that the noonday sun was beating hot upon her head. She was too much excited to think of anything clearly except of what Tom had said to her of Maude and Harold. How she hated him for it and hated herself for her jealousy of the poor little sick girl whose days she feared were numbered. If Harold is a comfort to her shall I begrudge her that comfort? Never, no never, she said aloud. Then as she remembered Tom's offer which she believed had been made in good faith she continued, poor Tom, I said some sharp things to him, but he deserved them the prig. Let him marry that Governor's daughter if he can. I am sure I wish him success. She had reached home by this time and found their simple dinner waiting for her. Oh, Grandma, why did you do it? Why didn't you wait for me? She said as she took her seat at the table where the dishes were all so plain and the cloth, though white and clean, so coarse and cheap. She was as fond of luxury and elegance as anyone and Tracey Park would have suited her taste better than the cottage. But not with Tom, she kept repeating to herself as she cleared the table and washed the dishes and then brought in and folded the cloths for the morrow's ironing. By this time she was very tired and going to her room she threw herself upon the lounge and slept soundly for two hours or more. Sleep is a wonderful tonic and Jerry Rose refreshed and quite herself again. But even a thought of Maude and Harold disturbed her as she went whistling and singing around her room hanging up her dresses one by one and wondering which she would wear at the garden party. Deciding at last upon a white muslin which although two years old was still in fashion and very becoming she arranged her hair in a fluffy mass at the back of her head, brushed her bangs into short, soft curls upon her forehead, pinned a cluster of roses on the bosom of her dress and was ready for the party. Well Harold if he is not too tired I want him very much to come for me, she said to Mrs. Crawford, and then about five o'clock started for grassy spring where she found the guests assembled in the grounds which surrounded the house. Tom was there in his character of a fine city dandy and the moment he saw Jerry he hastened to meet her, greeting her with perfect self-possession as if nothing had happened. You are late, he said going up to her. We are waiting for you to complete our eight-hand croquet and I claim you as my partner. I call that mean to Tom. I was going to ask Jerry to lay with me, Billy said, while Dick's face showed that he too would like the pleasure of playing with Jerry who was known to be an expert and seldom missed a ball. Naturally however Marion Raymond as a stranger would fall to him and they were soon paired off. Dick and Marion, Tom and Jerry, Nina and Billy, Fred Raymond and Anne Eliza who wore diamonds enough for a full-dress party and whose hair was filed on the top of her head so loosely that the ends of it stuck out here and there like the streamers on a boat on Galadays. This careless style of dressing her hair, Anne Eliza, affected thinking it gave individuality to her appearance and it certainly did attract general observation. Dick had stumbled and stammered dreadfully when confessing to his sister that he had invited the Peterkins while Nina had drawn a long breath of dismay as she thought of presenting Anne Eliza and Billy to Marion Raymond with her culture and aristocratic ideas. Then she burst into a laugh and said with her usual sweetness, Never mind Dicky, you could not do otherwise. I'll prepare Marion and the Peterkins will really enjoy it. So Marion who was a kind-hearted sensible girl was prepared and received the Peterkins very graciously and seemed really pleased with Billy whose big kind heart shown through his diminutive body and always won him friends. He was very happy to be there because he liked society and because he knew Jerry was coming and Anne Eliza was very glad because she felt it an honor to be invited to grassy spring and because Tom was there and when Croquet was proposed she was the first to respond. Oh yes that will be nice and I know our side will beat. She said looking at Tom as if it were a settled thing that she should play with him. But Tom was not in a mood to be gracious. He had come to the entertainment which he mentally called a bore partly because he would not let Jerry think he was taking her refusal to heart and partly because he must see her again even if she never could be his wife. All the better nature of Tom was concentrated in his love for Jerry and had she married him he would probably have made her as happy as a holy selfish man can make happy the woman he loves. But she had declined his offer and wounded him deeper than she supposed. A hundred times he had said to himself that afternoon that he did not care as Sue that he was glad she had refused him for after all it was only an infatuation on his part that the girl of the carpet bag was not the wife for Tracy. But the twinge of pain in his heart belied his words and he knew that he loved Jerry Crawford better than he should ever again love any girl whether the daughter of the governor or of the president. And I'll go to the party too just to show her that I don't care and for the sake of seeing her he said she can't help that and it is a pleasure to look at a woman so grandly developed and perfectly formed as she is. By Jove. Hell, Hastings is a lucky dog but I shall hate him forever. So Tom went to grassy spring in a frame of mind not the most amiable and when croquet was proposed he sneered at it as something quite too passé citing Launtennis as the only decent outdoor amusement. Why then don't you set it up on your grounds where you have plenty of room and ask us all over there dick-ass good humoredly as he began to take out the mallets and balls to this Tom did not reply but said instead count me out I don't like the game and there are enough without me. Just then Jerry appeared at the gate and he added quickly still I don't want to seem ungracious and now Jerry has come we can have an eight hand hastening towards her he met her as we have recorded and claimed her for his partner. Thank you Tom Jerry said with a bright smile on her face which made the young man's heart beat fast as he gave her her mallet and told her she was to play first Tom was making himself master of ceremonies and dick let him and watched Jerry admiringly as she made the two arches and the third and fourth and then sent her ball out of harm's way it was a long and closely contested game for all were skillful players except for Annalisa who was always behind and required a great deal of attention from her partner especially when it came to cropping a ball she did not know exactly what to do and kept her foot so long upon the ball that less amiable girls than Nina and Jerry would have said she did it on purpose to show how small and pretty it looked in her closely fitting French boot but Jerry's side beat as it usually did she had become a rover the second round had rescued Tom from many a difficulty and taken Annalisa through four or five wickets besides doing good service to her other friends I prose three cheers for Jerry Billy said standing on tiptoe and nearly splitting his throat with his own hurrah after the game was over they repaired to the piazza where the little tables were laid for tea and where Jerry found herself vis-a-vis with Marion Raymond of whom she had thought she might stand a little in all she had heard so much of her but the mesmeric power which Jerry possessed drew the Kentucky girl to her at once and they were soon in a most animated conversation you do not seem like a stranger to me Marion said and I should almost say I had seen you before you are so like a picture in Germany yes Jerry answered with a gasp and a feeling such as she always experienced when the spell was upon her and she saw things as in a dream was it in a gallery oh no it was in a house we rented in V's badden you know perhaps that I was there at school for a long time then when mama came out and I was through school we stayed there for months it was so lovely and we rented a house which an Englishman had bought and made over such a pretty house it was too with so many flowers and vines around it and the picture did it belong to the Englishman Jerry asked oh no Marion replied it did not seem to belong to anybody Mr. Carter that was the name of our landlord said it was there when he took the house which was then very small and low with only two or three rooms he bought it because of the situation which though very quiet and pleasant was so near the curzal that we could always hear the music without going to the garden yes Jerry said again with her head on one side and her ear turned up as if she were listening to some forgotten strains yes and the picture was like me you say how like me every way like you Marion replied except that the original must have been younger when it was taken 16 perhaps and she was smaller than you and wore a peasant's dress and was knitting on a bench under a tree with the sunshine falling around her and at a little distance a gentleman stood watching her but what is the matter Miss Crawford are you sick Marion asks suddenly as she saw the bright color fade from Jerry's face while Tom and Dick knock their heads together in their efforts to get her a glass of water which they succeeded in spilling into her lap it is nothing Jerry said recovering herself quickly I have been in the hot sun a good deal today and perhaps that affected me and made me faint it is past now and she looked up as brightly as ever it's that confounded washing Tom thought but Jerry could have told him differently as Marion had talked to her of the house in V's baden and the picture of the peasant girl knitting in the sunshine she had seen as by revelation the picture on the wall in its pretty Florentine frame and knew that it resembled the face which came to her so often and was so real to her was it her old home Marion was describing had she lived there once when the house consisted of only two or three rooms and was that a picture of her mother left there she knew not how or why these were the thoughts crowding each other so fast in her brain when the faintness and pallor crept over her and the objects about her began to seem unreal but the cold water revived her and she was soon herself again listening while Marion talked of heat and sunstrokes with an evident forgetfulness of the peasant girl knitting in the sunshine but Jerry soon recurred to the subject and asked abruptly was there a stove in that house a tall white stove in a corner of one of the old rooms say the kitchen and a high-backed settee Marion looked at her a moment in surprise and then replied oh I know what you mean those unwieldy things in which they sometimes put the wood from the hall no there was nothing of that kind though there was an old settee by the kitchen fireplace but not a tall stove was the picture in the kitchen Jerry asked next no Marion replied it was in a little low apartment which must once have been the best room and was there no theory with regard to it it seemed strange that anyone should leave it there if he cared for it Jerry said yes it does Marion replied but all Mr. Carter knew was that the people of whom he bought the house said the portrait was there when they took possession and that it had been left to apply on the back rent and also that the original was dead he Mr. Carter had bought the picture with the house and offered to take it down but I would not let him it was such a sweet sunny happy face that it did me good to look at it and wonder who the young girl was and if her life were ever linked with that of the stranger watching her again the faintness came upon Jerry for she could see so plainly the picture of the girl with the long stalking in her lap a very long stalking she felt sure it was but dared not ask lest they should think her question a strange one of the stranger in the background she had no recollection but her heart beat wildly as she thought was that Mr. Arthur and was the young girl Gretchen how fast the lines touching her past had widened about her since she first saw the likeness in the mirror and her confused memories began to take shape and assume a tangible form I will find that house and that picture and Mr. Carter and the people who lived there before him she said to herself and then again addressing Marion she asked what was the street and the number of that house Marion told her the street but could not remember the number while Tom said laughingly why Jerry what makes you so much interested in an old German house do you expect to go there and live in it yes Jerry replied in the same light tone I am going to be sped in some time and I mean to find that house and the picture which Ms. Raymond says I am so much like then I shall know how I look to others you remember the couplet oh what some power the gift to us to see ourselves as others see us look in the glass the best one you can find and you'll see yourself as others see you Dick said gallantly before Jerry could reply a servant appeared on the piazza saying there was someone on the telephone asking for Mr. Peterkin it proved to be Billy's father who was in the village and had received a telegram from Springfield concerning a lawsuit which was pending between himself and a rival firm which claimed that he had infringed upon its patents before replying to the telegram he wished to confer with his son who was to come at once to the hotel and if necessary go to Springfield that night but by Joe Billy said as he explained the matter it's too bad that I must go when I'm enjoying my myself to tip top I wish that lawsuit was in Guinea then turning to Annalisa he asked how she would get home if he did not return oh don't trouble about me I can take care of myself Annalisa said with a bounce up in her chair which set every loose hair for frowsy head to flying maybe they'll send the carriage Billy went on and if they don't maybe you can go with Tom as far as his house and then you won't won't be afraid Tom could have killed the little man for having thus made it impossible for him not to see his sister safely home he had fully intended to forestall Dick and go with Jerry if Harold did not come for though she had refused him he wished to keep her as a friend hoping that in time she might be led to consider he liked to hear her voice to look into her face to be near her and the walk in the moonlight with her upon his arm had been something very pleasant to contemplate and now it was snatched from him by Billy's ill-advised speech and all Peterkin's red-haired daughter thrust upon him it was rather hard in Tom's face was very gloomy and dark for the remainder of the evening while they sat upon the piazza and laughed and talked and said the little nothing so pleasant to the young and so meaningless to the old who have forgotten their youth Jerry was the first to speak of going she had hoped that Harold might possibly come for her but as the time passed on and he did not appear she arose to say good night to Nina while Dick hastened forward and announced his intention to accompany her no dick no please don't she said I am not a bit afraid and I would rather you did not go but dick was persistent you know you accepted my service this morning he said and his face as he went down the steps with Jerry on his arm wore a very different expression from that of poor Tom who with Annalisa coming about to his elbow stopped moodily along the road scarcely hearing and not always replying to the commonplace remarks of his companion who had never been so happy in her life because never before had she been out alone in the evening with Tom Tracy as her escort chapter 26 out in the storm for half an hour or more before the young people left the house a dark mass of clouds had been rolling up from the west and by the time they were out of the grounds and in the highway the moonlight was wholly obscured while frequent growls of thunder and flashes of lightning in the distance told of the fast coming storm oh I am so afraid of thunder aren't you Annalisa cried in terror as she clung closer to Tom who did not reply until there came a gleam of lightning which showed him the white face and the loose hair blowing out from under his companion's hat there was a little shriek of fear and a smothered cry oh Tom aren't you a bit afraid and then Tom answering the trembling little girl who clung so closely to him thunder and lightning no I'm not afraid of anything except getting wet and if you are you'd better run before the whole thing is upon us the sky is blacker than midnight now I never saw a storm come on so fast can you run yes some Annalisa gasped only my boots are so tight and new and the heels are so high do you think we shall be struck struck no but don't screech and hang on to me so we can never get along if you do Tom growled and taking her by the wrist he dragged rather than led her through the woods where the great raindrops were beginning to fall so fast as the two showers one from the west and one from the south approached each other until at last they met overhead and then commenced a wild and fierce battle of the elements the southern storm and the western storm each tried to outdo the other and come off conqueror as the thunder and lightning and rain increased Tom went on faster and faster forgetting that the slip of a girl who scarcely came to his shoulders could not take as long strides as a great hulking fellow like himself oh Tom Tom please not so fast I can't keep up my heart beats so and my boots hurt me so came in a faint sobbing protest more than once from the panting girl at his side but he only answered you must keep up or we shall be soaked through and through I never knew it to rain so fast take off your boots if they hurt you you've no business to wear such small ones he had heard from Maude that Annalisa was very proud of her feet and always wore boots too small for them and he experienced a savage satisfaction in knowing that she was paying for her foolishness this was not very kind and Tom but he was not a kind hearted man and he held the whole Peterkin tribe as he called them in such contempt that he would scarcely have cared if the tired little feet boots and all had dropped off provided it did not add to his discomfort they were out of the woods and parked by this time and had struck into a field as a shorter route to the Betot but the way was rough and stony and Tom had stumbled himself two or three times and almost fallen when a sharp loud cry came from Annalisa and he felt that she was sinking to the ground his first impulse was to drag her on but that would have been too brutal and stopping short he asked what was the matter oh I don't know I guess I've sprained my ankle it turned right over on a big stone and hurts me awfully I can't walk another step oh what shall we do I don't know Tom answered gloomily we are in an awful must here it is raining great guns and I am wet to my skin and you can't walk you say what in thunder shall we do Annalisa was sobbing piteously and when a glare of lightning lighted up the whole heavens Tom caught a glimpse of her face which was distorted with pain and this decided him he had thought to leave her in the darkness and rain while he went for assistance either to the park house or the Betot but the sight of her utter helplessness awoken him a spark of pity and bending over her he said very gently for him Annie this was the name by which he used to call her when they were children together and he thought Annalisa too long Annie I shall have to carry you in my arms there is no other way it is not very far to your home come and stooping over the prostrate form he lifted her very carefully and holding her in a position the least painful for her began again to battle with the storm walking more carefully now and groping his way through the stony field lest he should fall and sprain his own ankle perhaps this is a jolly go he said to himself and then he thought of Dick and Jerry and wondered how they were getting through the storm and if she had sprained her ankle and Dick was carrying her in his arms he will sweat some if he is for Jerry is twice as heavy as Peter can stutter and at the very idea Tom laughed out loud thinking that he should greatly prefer having Jerry in his arms to this little girl who neither spoke nor moved until he left and then there came and smothered tones from the region of his vest oh Tom how can you laugh do you think it's such fun fun thunder anything but fun was his gruff reply as he went on more rapidly now for they were in the grounds of libato and the lights from the house were distinctly visible at no great distance away we are here at last thank the Lord he said as he went up the steps and pulled sharply at the bell let me down I can stand on one foot and Eliza said and nothing loath Tom put her down a most forlorn and dilapidated piece of humanity as she stood leaning against him with the light of the piazza lamp falling full upon her her little french boots which had partly done the mischief were spoiled and the heel of one of them had been nearly wrenched off when she stumbled over the stone her india muslin with its sash and ribbons and streamers was torn in places and be draggled with mud she had lost her hat in the woods and the wind and the rain had held high carnival in her loosely arranged hair whose color Tom so detested and which streamed down her back in little wet tags giving her the look of a drowned rat after it has been tortured in a trap old peterkin was reading his evening paper when Tom's loud summons sounded through the house making him jump from his chair as he exclaimed Jiminy hoakes who can that be in this dorm he had seen Billy off in the train and had returned home just as the rain began to fall naturally both he and his wife had felt some anxiety on Analyze's account but had concluded that if the storm continued she would remain at grassy spring and if it cleared in time they would send the carriage for her so neither thought of her when the loud ring came startling them so much it was Peterkin himself who went to the door gorgeous in a crimson satin dressing gown which came to his feet but which no amount of pulling could make meet together over his ponderous stomach an oriental smoking cap was on his head the big tassel hanging almost in his eyes at a half burnt cigar between his fingers good George of Uxbridge he exclaimed as his eyes fell upon Tom from whose soaked hat the water was dripping and upon Analyze leaning against him her pale face quivering with pain and her eyes full of tears George of Uxbridge what's up what ails the girl she has sprained her ankle and I had to bring her home she can't step Tom said Jerusalem hoe cakes sprained her ankle can't step you bring her home heavens and earth here may Jane come lively here's a nice howdy do and Liza's broke her leg and Tom Tracy's bring her home as Peterkin talked he was carrying his daughter into the hall hitting her lame foot against the door and eliciting from her a cry of pain oh father oh it does hurt so put me somewhere quick and take off my boot she was dripping wet and little puddles of water trailed along the carpet as Peterkin carried her into the sitting room where he was about to lay her down upon the delicate satin couch when his wife's housewifely instincts were roused and she exclaimed no father not there when she's so wet and water spots that satin so dreadfully what in thunder shall I do with her hold her all night Peterkin demanded while Tom deliberately picked up the costly turkey hearth rug and throwing it across the couch said put her on that so Peterkin deposited her upon the rug hitting her foot again and sending her off in a dead faint oh she's dead she's dead what shall we do Mrs. Peterkin cried ringing her hands and walking about excitedly do Peterkin yelled hold your yap and stop flopping round like a hen with her head cut off she ain't dead she's fainted bring some campfire or alcohol or hearts horn or pawns extract or something for her to smell yes yes but where are they Mrs. Peterkin moaned flopping around as her husband had expressed it while Tom rang the bell and summoned a servant to whom he gave directions bring some camphor or hearts horn he said Miss Peterkin has fainted and get off that boot as soon as possible don't you see how her foot is swelling this to Peterkin who made a dive at the boot which resisted all his efforts even after it was unbuttoned the leather which was soaked through had shrunk so that it was impossible to remove the boot without cutting it away and this they commenced to do and Eliza had recovered her consciousness by this time and although the pain was terrible she bore it heroically as piece after piece of the boot was removed together with a silk stocking which left her poor little swollen foot exposed and bare by jove she's plucky Tom thought as he watched the operation and saw the great drops of sweat on Analyze's forehead and her efforts to quiet her mother pretending that it did not hurt so very much yes she's plucky and for the first time in his life Tom was conscious of a feeling of something like respect for Peterkin's red haired daughter she has a small foot too the smallest I ever saw on a woman I do believe she wears twos he thought while something about the little white foot made him think of poor Jack's dead feet laid under the grass years ago in this softened frame of mind yet last said good night although pressed by Peterkin to stay and dry himself or at least take a drink as a preventive against cold but Tom declined both saying a hot bath would set him all right goodbye Annie I'm awfully sorry for the sprain he said offering her his hand and as she took it in hers noticing about the wrist prints of his fingers which had grasped it so tightly and held it so firmly as he dragged her along over stumps and bogs and stones until she sank at his feet I guess I was a brute to race her like that he said to himself as he went out into the darkness and started for home but I didn't want to go with her I wanted to be with Jerry who I have no doubt went straight along without ever thinking of spraining her ankle as Analyza did poor little foot how swollen though it was when they got that boot off but she bore it like a major pity she has such all fired red hair and files it up like a haystack on the top of her head with every hair looking six ways for Sunday at this point in his soliloquy Tom reached home and was soon luxuriating in a hot bath which removed all traces of the soaking he had received that night he dreamed of Analyza and how light she was in his arms and how patient through it all and that the magnificent rooms at Lebatou were all fresh gold with diamonds and the floors inlaid with gold then the nature of his dream changed and it was Jerry he was carrying bending under her weight until his back was broken but he did not mind it in the least and when he bent to kiss the face lying upon his bosom where Analyza had lain he awoke suddenly to find that it was morning and that the sun was shining brightly into his room end of chapters thirty five and thirty six