CHAPTER 14 LITTLE GERRY It was nearly noon when Harold left Tracy Park the previous day and started for home, eager and anxious with regard to the child whom he claimed as his own. He had found her. She was his and he should keep her, he said to himself, and then he wondered how his grandmother had managed with her and if she had cried for him or her mother and as he reached the house he stood still a moment to listen. But the sounds which met his ears were peals of laughter mingled with mild and, as it would seem, unavailing expostulations from his grandmother. Opening the door suddenly he found the child seated at the table in the high chair he used to occupy. Standing before her was a dish of bread and milk of which he had evidently eaten enough for she was playing with it and amusing herself by striking the spoon into the milk which was splashed over the table while three or four drops of it were standing on the forehead and nose of the distressed woman who was vainly trying to take the spoon from the little hand clenching it so firmly. Mrs. Crawford had had a busy and exciting day with her charge who, active and restless and playful, kept her on the alert and made her forget in part how lame she was. As she could not put her foot to the floor without great pain and as she must move about she had adopted the expedient of placing her knee on a chair to the back of which she held while she hobbled around the room followed by the child who delighted with this novel method of locomotion put her knee in a low chair and holding to Mrs. Crawford's skirts limped after her imitating her perfectly even to the groans she sometimes uttered when a twinge sharper than usual ran up her swollen limb. It was fun for the child but almost death to the woman who, when she could endure it no longer, sank into a chair and tried by speaking sharply to make the little girl understand that she must be quiet.  When Mrs. Crawford laughed, the child laughed and when once a pang severe than usual rung the tears from her eyes baby looked at her compassionately a moment while her little face puckered itself into wrinkles as if she too were going to cry then putting up her hand she wiped the tears from Mrs. Crawford's cheeks and climbing into her lap became as quiet as a kitten. But a touch suffice to start her up for she was full of fun and frolic and her laughing blue eyes which were of that wide open kind which see everything were brimming over with mischief. Once or twice she called for ma-ni and going to the window stood on tiptoe looking out to see if she were coming but on the whole she seemed happy and content exploring every nook and corner of the kitchen and examining curiously every article of furniture as if it were quite new to her. Once when Mrs. Crawford was talking earnestly to her trying to make her understand she stood for a moment watching and imitating the motion of the lady's lips and the expression of her face then going up to her she began to examine her mouth and her teeth as if she would know what manner of machinery it was which produced sounds so new and strange to her. She was a remarkable child for her age though Mrs. Crawford was puzzled to know just what that was. She was very small and judging from her size one would have said she was not more than four years old but the expression of her face was so mature and she saw things so quickly and understood so readily that she must have been older. She was certainly very precocious and Mrs. Crawford felt herself greatly interested in her as she watched her active movements and listened to the musical prattle she could not understand. She had examined the carpet bag in which she found the articles necessary for an ocean voyage and little else. Most of these were soiled from use but there was among them a little clean white apron and this Mrs. Crawford put upon the child after having washed her face and hands and brushed her hair which had a trick of coiling itself into soft fluffy curls all over her head. The bread and milk had been given her about twelve o'clock and the laugh she gave when she saw it showed her appreciation of it quite as much as the eagerness with which she ate it.  Taking her on his lap and kissing her rosy cheeks he began to narrate to his grandmother all that had been done and told her that Mr. St. Clair had said that the woman was French and if so he continued, baby must be French too though she does not look a bit like her mother who is very dark and not, well not at all like you or Mrs. St. Clair. Then he told of the trunk which the baggage master had taken to the park and of what it contained. The women's clothes were marked NB he said and some of the babies such a funny name Mr. St. Clair said it was French and pronounced geren though it is spelled geren. That is the name on the child's things in the bag Mrs. Crawford said. Of course it is babies then Harold replied but I shall call her Jerry for short even if it is a boy's name and so my little lady I christen you Jerry. And kissing the forehead the eyes the nose and the chin he marked the shape of the cross upon the face up turned to his and named his baby Jerry and when he called her that she left and nodded as if the sound were not new to her. She was a beautiful child with complexion as pure as wax and eyes which might have borrowed their color from the blue lakes of Italy or from the skies of England when they are at their brightest. I wish she could talk to me I suppose she must speak French he said as he was trying in vain to make her understand him. Don't you know a word I say he asked her and her reply was what sounded to him like wee wee. At Singlish he cried delighted with her progress but when he spoke to her again her answer was yeah yeah which seemed to him so nonsensical that after a few attempts to make her say yes and to teach her what it meant he gave up his lesson for the remainder of the day and talked to her by signs and gestures which she seemed to understand. Whatever he did she did and he saw her more than once imitating his grandmother's motions as well as his own to the life. Late in the afternoon Mr. St. Clair came to the cottage curious to see the child who at sight of him retreated behind Harold and then peered shyly up at him with a look in her great blue eyes which puzzled him on the instant as one is frequently puzzled with a likeness to something or somebody he tries in vain to recall. In this instance it was hardly the eyes themselves but rather the way they looked at him and the sweep of the long lashes together with a firm shutting together of the lips which struck Mr. St. Clair as familiar and when with a swift movement of her little hand she swept the mass of golden hair back from her forehead he would have sworn that he had seen that trick a thousand times and yet he could not place it. That she was the child of the dead woman he believed and as the mother was French so also was she. He had once passed two years in France and was master of the language so he spoke to her in French but she made no reply until he said to her, Where is your mother little one? Then she answered promptly, dead, but the language was German not French.  Then as he noted the purity of her complexion her fair hair and blue eyes he said to himself, Her father was a German and probably lived in Germany but the mother was certainly French. He could speak German a little and turning again to the child he managed to say, What is your name? Derry, was the reply, and Harold exclaimed. That's it, she means Jerry.  Yeah, we, yes, was the answer and there was a gleam of triumph in the blue eyes which flashed up to Harold for approbation. She had not of course understood a word he said except indeed her name but the tone of his voice was interrogatory and seemed to expect an affirmative answer which she gave in three languages emphasizing S with the knot of her head as if greatly pleased with herself. Bravo, Harold shouted, she can say yes, I taught her and I shall have her talking English in a few days as well as I do, shan't I, Jerry? Yeah, S, was the reply. Then Mr. St. Clair tried to question her further with regard to herself and her home but no satisfactory result was reached beyond the fact that her mother was dead, that her name was Jerry or Dairy as she called it, and that she had been on a ship with Manny who did so, and she imitated perfectly the motions and contortions of one who was deathly seasick. I suppose she means her mother by Manny, Mr. St. Clair said, and when he asked her if it were not so she answered, Yeah, and S, as she did everything, adopting finally the latter word altogether, because she saw it pleased Harold. No matter what was the question put to her, her reply was S, which she repeated quickly in a lisping tone with a prolonged sound on the S. When at last Mr. St. Clair took his leave, it was with a strange feeling of interest for the child whose antecedents must always be shrouded in mystery and whose future he could not predict. It seemed impossible for Mrs. Crawford to keep her poor as she was, and as he had no idea that the Tracy's would take her, there was no alternative but the poor house, unless he took her himself and brought her up with his own little five-year-old Nina. He would wait until after the funeral and see he decided as he went back to his home at Briar Hill where his children Dick and Nina were eager to hear all he had to tell them of the little girl whose mother had been frozen to death. The next morning the slave from Tracy Parks topped before the cottage door and Frank who had been to meet the coroner alighted from it. He was pale and haggard as he entered the room where Jerry was playing on the floor with Harold's maltease kitten. As he came in she looked up at him and lifting her hand swept the hair back from her forehead just as she had done the day before when Mr. St. Clair was there. The motion had struck the latter as something familiar though he could not define it. But Frank did and his knees shook so he could hardly stand as he taught with Mrs. Crawford and told her he had come for the child who ought to be where her mother was until after the funeral. Then she will come back again. You will not keep her. She is mine ain't you Jerry. Harold exclaimed eagerly while Jerry who with a child's instincts sensed danger from Harold's manner and associated that danger with a strange man looking so curiously at her sprang to her feet which she stamped vigorously while she cried. S S S with her blue eyes anything but soft and sunny as they usually were. In this mood she was not much like Gretchen in the picture but she was like someone else whom Frank had seen in excited moods and he grew faint and sick as he watched her and saw the varying expression of her face and eyes. The way she shook her head at him and flourished her hands was a way he had seen many times and he felt as if his heart would leap from his throat as he tried to speak to her. A turn of the head, a gesture of the hands, a curve of the eyelashes, a tone in the voice seemed slight actions on which to base a certainty but Frank did feel certain and his brain reeled for an instant as his thoughts leaped forward years and years until he was an old man and he wondered if he could bear it and make no sign. Then just as he had decided that he could not the tempter suggested to him a plan which seemed so feasible and fair that the future with a secret to guard did not look so formidable and to himself he said it is not likely that I can ever be positive and so long as there is a doubt however small it would be preposterous to give up what otherwise must come to my children if not to me but I will not wrong her more than I can help. Come little girl, he said in his kindest tones as he advanced towards her while Harold went for her cloak and hood. Jerry knew then that she was expected to go with this stranger and without Harold and resisted with all her might. Standing behind him as if safe there and clinging to his coat she sobbed piteously intermingling her sobs with s s s the only English word she knew and which she seemed to think would avail in every emergency and it did help her now for Harold asked that he might go too and when Jerry saw him with his coat and hat and understood that he was to be her escort she allowed herself to be made ready and was soon in the sleigh and on her way to Tracy Park. Chapter 15. Jerry at the Park. And so this is the little girl. We'll take her right to the kitchen where she can get warm. Mrs. Tracy said as she met her husband in the hall with Harold and the might of a creature wrapped in the foreign-looking cloak and hood. No, dolly and Frank spoke very decidedly. She is going to the nursery with the other children and when they have their dinner she will have hers with them. S s s. Jerry said as if she comprehended that there was a difference of opinion between the man and woman and that she was on the affirmative side. Take her to the nursery. Oh Frank, she may have something about her which the children will catch. Mrs. Tracy said blocking the way as she spoke. But Jerry who threw the half-open door had caught sight of the pretty sitting room with its warm carpet and curtains and cheerful fire shook her head defiantly at the lady and brushing past her went boldly into the room whose brightness had attracted her. Marching up to the fire she stood upon the rug and looked about her with evident satisfaction. Then glancing at Harold she nodded complacently and said s s. While she held her little cold hands to the fire. Hacks as if she belonged here, doesn't she? Frank said to his wife who did not reply. So intent was she upon watching the strange child who deliberately took off her cloak and hood and tossing them upon the floor drew a chair to the fire and climbing into it sat down as composedly as if she were mistress there instead of an intruder. Take her to the nursery now. I must see to that corner. Frank continued and Harold must go too or there will be the old Harry to pay. S s. Came very decidedly from the child who went willingly with Harold and was soon ushered into the large upper room which was used both as nursery and school room for Mrs. Tracy would not allow her two sons Tom and Jack to come in contact with the boys at school. So she kept a governess who glad of a home and the liberal compensation sat all day in the nursery and bore patiently with Tom's freaks and Jack's dullness to say nothing of the trouble it was to have Maude toddling about and interfering with everything. Hello, Tom cried as his mother came in followed by Harold and Jerry. Hello, what's up? And throwing aside the slate on which he had been trying to master the difficulties of a sum in long division he went toward them and said, has the coroner come and can't I go and see the inquest? You said maybe I could if I behaved and I do, don't I, Miss Howard? Just then he caught sight of Jerry and stopping short exclaimed, by Jingo ain't she pretty, I mean to kiss her. And he made a movement toward the little girl who looked up so shyly at him. But his mother caught his arm and held him back as she said sharply, Don't touch her, there is no telling what you may catch. I wanted her to go to the kitchen, the proper place for her, but your father insisted that she should be brought here. I hope, Miss Howard, you will see that she does not go near the children. Yes, madam, Miss Howard replied, but I am sure there can be no danger. She looks as clean and sweet as a rose. Miss Howard was fond of children and she held out her hand to the little girl who seemed to have a most wonderful faculty for discriminating between friends and enemies and who went to her readily and leaning against her arm looked curiously at the group of children, Tom and Jack and Maude, the latter of whom wished to go to her but was restrained by the nurse. The moment the door closed upon Mrs. Tracy, Tom walked up to the child and said, I wonder who you are anyway and how you will like the poor house? Who said she was going to the poor house? Harold exclaimed indignantly. Mother said so, Tom replied. I heard her talking to the cook. Where would she go if she didn't go to the poor house? Who would take care of her? I shall take care of her, Harold answered. She will live with grandmother and me. I found her and she is mine. Yes, yes, came from Jerry as she swung one little foot back and forth and looked confidingly at her champion. You take care of her, Tom sneered, with that supercilious air he always assumed towards those he considered his inferiors. Why, you and your grandmother can't take care of yourselves or you couldn't if it wasn't for Uncle Arthur. You wouldn't have any house to live in if he hadn't give it to you. Harold's arms were unfolded now and the doubled fists were in his pockets clenching themselves tighter and tighter as he advanced to Tom, who began to back toward the nurse for safety. It's a lie, Tom Tracy, Harold said. Mr. Arthur does not take care of us. We do it ourselves and have forever so long. He did give us the house, but it ain't for you to twit me of that. Whose house is this I'd like to know. It isn't yours nor your father's and there isn't a thing in it yours. It is all Mr. Arthur's. Well, we are to be his heirs, Jack and Maude and me. Mother says so. Tom stammered out while Jerry, who had been looking intently first at one boy and then at the other, called out. Nine, nine. Instruct her hand toward Tom. What does she mean by her nine, nine? He asked of Miss Howard, who replied that she thought it was the German for no, no, and that the child probably did not approve of him. Tom knew she did not and though she was only a baby, he felt chagrined and irritable. Had he dared he would have struck Harold, but he was afraid of Miss Howard and remembering it must be time for the inquest, he slipped from the room, whispering to Harold as he passed him, I'll thrash you yet. Let me know when you are ready, was Harold's taunting reply as the door closed upon the disconfident Tom. The inquest was a mere matter of form for there was no doubt in anyone's mind that the woman had been frozen to death and she had no friends to complain that due attention had not been paid her. So after a few questions put to Mr. Tracy and more to Harold, who was summoned from the nursery to tell what he knew, a verdict was rendered of frozen to death. Then came the question, where should she be buried and at whose expense? Quite a number of people had assembled and the little room was full. Conspicuous among them was Peterkin, who having been elected to an office which necessitated a care for the expenditures of the village was swelling with importance and dying for a chance to be heard. When Harold came into the room, Jerry was with him. She had refused to let him leave her and he let her by the hand into the midst of the men who grew as silent and respectful the moment she appeared as if she had been a woman instead of a little child who could speak no word of their language or understand what was said to her. It was her mother lying there dead and they made way for her as, catching the sight of the white face, she uttered a cry of joy and running up to the body padded the cold cheeks while she kept calling, money, money. And saying words unintelligible to all but full of pathos and love and a child like coaxing for the inanimate form to rouse itself and speak to her again. Poor little thing was said by more than one and hands went up to eyes unused to tears for the sight was a touching one.  Harold took her away from the body and lifting her into a chair kept by her as with her arm around his neck she stood watching and sometimes imitating the gestures of the men around her. It was Peterkin who spoke first, standing back so straight that his immense stomach with the heavy gold watch chain hanging across it seemed to fill the room. He gave his opinion before anyone else had a chance to express theirs. It was the first time he had been in the house since the morning after the party when Arthur had turned him from the door. He had vowed vengeance against the Tracy's and kept this vow by spending $2,000 in order to defeat Frank as member of Congress and to get himself elected as one of the village trustees and now he had come partly out of curiosity to see the woman and partly to oppose her being buried by the town if such a thing were suggested. Let them Tracy's bury their own dead. He said to his wife before he left home and he said it again in substance now as with the tremendous, ahem. He commenced his speech standing close to little Jerry who watched him with a face which varied in its expression with every variation in his voice and manner and reached its climax when he said, ah, don't believe in saddling the town with the debt we don't order to pay. Let the Tracy's bury their own dead, I say. S, S, Jerry chimed in with an emphatic knot of her head with each S and a flourish of her hand more threatening than approving toward the speaker who glanced at her and went on. Don't you see, gentlemen of the Jerry who this cub looks like? I do and so can you with half an eye. She looks like Arthur Tracy. Just then Jerry swept back her golden hair and opening her eyes very wide flash them around the room until they rested by accident upon Frank who pale and faint and terrified was leaning against the doorway trying to seem only amused at the tirade which was concluded as follows. Yes, Arthur Tracy, not her skin perhaps, not hair nor her eyes, least wise not the color, but something I can't describe.  That may be, but he's been in foreign parts too. I don't say nothing nor incinerate nothing, but I won't consent to have the town pay what belongs to the Tracy's. Let them run their own canoes and funerals too, I say. And as for this young one with the yellow hair, though where she got that the Lord only knows, taint hers, pointing to the corpse, nor taint hisen, pointing in the direction of Arthur's rooms. As for her, I'm opposed ascending to the poor house another pauper. She is not a pauper and she is not going to the poor house either, Harold exclaimed while Jerry came in with her nine-nine which made the bystanders laugh as Peterkin went on addressing himself to Harold. You are her champion, eh, and intend to take care of her. Mighty fine, I'm sure, but hadn't you better fetch back may Jane spin that you took at the party? It is false, Harold cried. I never saw the pin, never, and the hot tear sprang to his eyes at this unmanly assault. By this time Peterkin, who felt that everybody was against him, was swelling with rage and seizing Harold by the collar, roared out. Do you tell me I lie? You rascal, I'll teach you what belongs to manners. And he would have struck the boy, but for Jerry, who had been watching him as a cat watches a mouse and who, raising her war cry up, nine-nine, sprang at him like a little tiger and by the fierceness of her gestures and the volubility of her German jargon actually compelled him to retreat step by step until she had him outside the door which she barred with her diminutive person. No one could help laughing at the discomforted giant in the might of a child facing him so bravely while she scolded at the top of her voice. Peterkin saw that he was beaten and left the house while Frank, who had recovered his composure during the ludicrous scene, said to those present, I would not explain to that brute, but it is not my intention to trouble the town. I have no more idea who this woman is than you have and I'll swear that Peterkin's vile insinuations with regard to her are false. My brother says he never saw her and he speaks the truth. She has every appearance of a foreigner and her child. Here Frank's tongue felt a little thick but he cleared his throat and went on. Her child speaks a foreign language, German they tell me.  I have consulted with him and he thinks as I do that she should be cared for at our expense. He says further that there is room in the Tracy lot. She is to be buried there. I shall attend to it at once and the funeral will take place tomorrow morning at 10 o'clock from this house. What disposition will be made of the child I have not yet decided, but she will not go to the poor house. Oh, Mr. Tracy, Harold burst out, she is mine. She is to live with grandmine me. You will not take her from me, say you will not? Will not, Jerry reiterated, imitating as well as she could Harold's last words. For a moment Mr. Tracy looked fixately at the boy, pleading for a burden which would necessitate toil and self-denial and patience of no ordinary kind and never had he despised himself more than he did when, believing what he did believe, he said at last, I will talk with your grandmother and see what arrangements we can make. I rather think you have the best right to her. But she must stay here until after the funeral and she can go with you if you like. To this Harold did not object and as Jerry seemed very happy and content, he left her while she was exploring the long drawing room and examining the different articles of furniture. As she did not seem disposed to touch anything, she was allowed to go where she liked, although Mrs. Frank remonstrated against her roaming all over the house as if she belonged there and suggested again that she be sent to the kitchen. But Frank said no and Jerry was left to herself except as the nurse girl and Charles looked after her a little. And so it came about that toward evening she found herself in the upper hall and after making the tour of the rooms whose doors were open, she came to one whose door was shut nor could she turn the knob although she tried with all her might.  Inside the room Arthur sat in his dressing gown very nervous and a little inclined to be irritable and capcious. He knew there had been an inquest and that many people had come and gone that day for he had seen them from his window and had seen to the sleigh with Frank and the coroner and Harold and a blue hood drive into the yard. But to the blue hood he never gave a thought as he was only intent upon the dead woman whose presence in the house made him so nervous and restless. I shall be glad when she is buried. I have been so cold and shaky ever since they brought her here. He said to Charles as with a shiver he do his chair nearer to the fire and leaning back wearily in it fixed his eyes upon Gretchen's picture smiling at him from the window. Dear little Gretchen, he said in a whisper, you seem so near to me now that I can almost hear your feet at the door and your voice asking to come in. Hush. And he started suddenly as Jerry's kicks made themselves heard even in the room where he sat. Hush. Who is that banging at the door? Surely not Maude. They would not let her come up here. Go and see and send her away. He had forgotten that he was listening for Gretchen and when Charles who had opened the door cautiously and described the intruder said to him, it is that woman's child, shall I let her in? She is a pretty little thing, he replied. Let her in? No, why should you? And why is she allowed to prowl about the house? Tell her to go away. So Jerry was sent away with a troubled disappointed look in her little face and as the chill night came on and the dark shadows crept into the room and Gretchen's picture gradually faded from sight in the gathering gloom until it seemed only a confused mixture of lead and glass, Arthur felt colder and drearier and more wretched than he had ever felt before. It was a genuine case of homesickness if one can be homesick in his own house surrounded by every possible comfort and luxury. He was tired and sick and disappointed and his head was aching terribly while thoughts of the past were crowding his brain with a light of reasons seemed struggling to reinstate itself. He was thinking of Gretchen and longing for her so intensely that once he groaned aloud and whispered to himself, poor Gretchen, I am so sorry for it all. I can see it clearer now, how I left her and did not write and I don't know where she is or if she will ever come and yet I feel as if she had come or tidings of her. Perhaps my letter reached her, perhaps she is on her way. God grant it and forgive me for all I have made her suffer. It was very still in the room where Arthur sat for Charles had gone out and only the occasional crackling of the coal in the grate and the ticking of the clock broke the silence which reigned around him and at last soothed into quiet he fell asleep and dreamed that on his door he heard again the thud of baby feet while Gretchen's voice was calling to him to let the baby in. End of chapters 14 and 15, chapters 16 and 17 of Gretchen by Mary Jane Holmes. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 16, The Funeral and After. Long before 10 o'clock the hour appointed for the funeral the people began to gather at the parkhouse and the avenue seemed full of them. The news that an unknown woman had been frozen to death in the tramp house had spread far and wide awakening in many a curiosity to see the stranger and discovery if possible a likeness to someone they might have known. It was strange how many reminiscences were brought to mind by the circumstance of girls who had disappeared years before and were supposed to be dead or worse. And this woman might be one of them and they came in crowds to see her and to see as well the inside of the handsome house of which they had heard so much, especially since Mr. Arthur's return. But in this they were disappointed for all the front rooms were locked against them and only the large dining room, the breakfast room, the servants' hall and the little back office were thrown open to the public. In the first of these the corpse was lying in a handsome coffin for Frank would have no other and when the undertaker suggested to him that a cheaper one would answer just as well, he said. I mean to bury her decently. Give me this one and send the bill to me, not to Arthur. It was his funeral and judging from his face he was burying all his friends instead of a poor unknown woman whose large coarse features and plain woolen dress looked out of place in that handsome black coffin with its silver plated trimmings. Frank had suggested that she should have a white merino shroud but his wife had overruled him. It was not her funeral and she had no interest in it except that it should be over as soon as possible and the house cleansed from the atmosphere of death. So when her husband asked if the child ought not to have a morning dress she scoffed at him for the suggestion saying she did not like to see children in black and even if she died herself she should not wish hers to wear it. I cannot imagine, she continued, why you have taken so unaccountable of fancy to and interest in these people especially the child. One would think she belonged to royalty the fuss you make over her. What are we to do with her tonight? Where is she to sleep? In the nursery was his reply and he saw his wishes carried out and ordered in a crib which used to be jacked and bade the nurse to see that she was comfortable. So Jerry was put to bed in the nursery and slept very quietly until about 10 o'clock when she awoke and cried piteously for both Manny and Harold. Frank who was sitting alone in the library heard the cry and knew it was not mods. Had it been he would not have minded it for he knew that she would be cared for without his interference. But something in the crying of this little foreign girl stirred him strangely and after listening to it a few moments he arose and going softly to the door of the nursery stood listening until a sharp hush from the nurse girl decided him to enter and going to the crib he bent over the sobbing child and tried to comfort her. She could not understand him but the tone of his voice was kind when he put his hand on her hot head she took it in hers and held it fast as if she recognized in him a friend. And Frank as he felt the clasp of the soft warm fingers and saw the confiding look in the wide open eyes grew faint and cold and asked himself again as he had many times that day if he could do it. Jerry was asleep at last but she sobbed occasionally in her sleep and there were great tears on her eyelashes while her fingers clutched Frank's hand tightly as if fearing to let it go. But he managed to disengage it and stealing cautiously from the room went back to the library where he sat late into the night facing the future and wondering if he could meet it. He had Jerry at the table next morning and saw that she was helped to everything she wanted without any regard to its suitability for her and when his wife said rather curtly that she never supposed he was so fond of children he answered her, I am only doing as I would wish someone to do to Maude if she were like this poor little girl. When at last the hour for the funeral arrived he placed her upon a high chair close to the coffin where she sat through the short service conspicuous in her gray cloak and blue hood with her hair falling on her neck and piled in wavy masses on her forehead while her bright eyes scanned the crowd eagerly as if asking why they were there and why they were all looking so intently at her. More than one kind-hearted woman went up and kissed her and when at the close of the services Mr. Tracy held her in his arms for a last look at her mother. Their tears fell fast for the child so unconscious of the meaning of what was passing around her. Isn't she beautiful? Such lovely hair and eyes and dazzling complexion was said by more than one and then they speculated as to her future. Would she go to the poor house? Would Frank Tracy keep her or was it true as they had heard that Mr. Arthur Tracy was to adopt her as his own? And where was Mr. Arthur? He might at least have shown enough respect for the dead woman to come into the room, they said.  He had not slept well during the night. Indeed he said he had not slept at all but this was a common assertion of his and one to which Charles paid little heed. A man can't snore and not sleep was the unanswerable argument with which he refuted the sleepless nights of his master. On this occasion however he had heard no snoring and Arthur's face seen by the morning light was a sufficient proof of the wakeful hours he had passed. He too had heard the distant crying and felt instinctively that it was not mods. Starting up in bed to listen he said, what's that? Is that child here yet? Yes, sir, she is to stay till after the funeral was Charles's reply and Arthur continued. Bring me some cotton for my ears. I never can stand that noise. It is a peculiar cry. The cotton was brought. A window in the hall which had a habit of rattling with every breath of wind was made fast with a bit of shingle whittled out for that purpose and then Arthur became tolerably quiet until morning when he began to talk to himself in the German language which Charles could not understand. But he caught the name Gretchen and knew she was the subject of the sick man's thoughts. Suddenly turning to his attendant to whom he always spoke in English, Arthur said, the funeral is today. Yes, sir, at 10 o'clock. Well, lock every door leading up this way and shut out the gossiping blockheads who will come by hundreds and if we would let them swarm into my room as thick as the frogs were in the houses of the Egyptians. Shut the doors, Charles, and keep them out. So the doors were shut and bolted and then Arthur lay listening with that intensity which so quickens one's hearing that the faintest sounds are distinct at great distances. He heard the trampling footsteps as the people came crowding in and the tread of horses-feed as sleigh after sleigh drove up the avenue and once with a shudder, he said. That is the hearse, I am sure of it. Then all was still and listen as he might, he could not distinguish the faintest sound until the services were over and the people began to leave the house. There, he said with a sigh of relief, it will soon be over. Bring me my clothes, Charles. I am going to get up and see the last of this poor woman. God help her whoever she was. He was beginning to feel a great pity for the woman whose coffin they were putting in the hearse which moved off a few rods and then stopped until the open sleigh came up, the sleigh in which Frank Tracy sat muffled in a heavy overcoat for the day though bright and sunny was cold and a chill wind was blowing. Dolly had taken refuge in a headache which had prevented her from being present at the funeral and kept her from going to the grave as her husband had wished her to do. So only Harold and Jerry occupied the sleigh with Frank and these sat opposite him with their backs to the horses. Jerry and her gray cloak and blue hood showing conspicuously as she came into full view of the window where Arthur stood looking at the procession with a feeling at his heart as if in some way he were interested in the sad funeral where there was no mourner, no one who had ever seen or known the deceased except the little helpless girl looking around her in perfect unconcern save as she rather liked the stir and all that was going on. They had tied a thin veil over her head to shield her from the cold and thus her face was not visible to Arthur but he saw the blue hood and the golden hair on the old gray cloak and the sight of it moved him mightily making him hold fast to the window casing for support while he stood watching it. Just as far as he could see it his eye followed that hood and when it disappeared from view he turned from the window, deathly sick and tottering back to his bedroom vomited from sheer nervous excitement. Thank heaven it is over and the rabble gone he said when he became easier. Go now and open all the doors and windows to let out the smell they are sure to have left. Ugh, I get a whiff of it now. Burn some of that aromatic paper but open the hall windows first. Charles did as he was ordered and the wind was soon sweeping through the wide hall while Arthur's rooms were filled with an odor like the sweet incense burned in the old cathedrals. I am very giddy and faint, Arthur said when Charles came back to him after his ventilating operation. I have looked at the bright snow too long and there are a thousand rings of fire dancing before my eyes and in every ring I see a blue hood and veil with waves of hair like Gretchen's. Wheel me out there, Charles, where I can see her. Charles obeyed and moved the light bed lounge into the library where his master could feast his eyes upon the sweet face which knew no change but which always night and day smiled upon him the same. The picture had a soothing effect upon Arthur and he gazed at it now until it began to fade away and lose itself in the blue hood and veil he had seen in the sleigh far down the avenue and when a few minutes later Charles came in to look at him he found him fast asleep. Meantime the funeral train had reached the cemetery where the snow was piled in great drifts and where in a corner of the Tracy lot they buried the stranger with no tear to hallow her grave and no pang of her Gret save that she had ever come there with the mystery and the doubt which must always cling to her memory. Frank Tracy's face was very pale and stern as he held little Jerry in his arms during the committal of the body to the grave and then bad her take one last look at the box which held her mother. But Jerry who was growing cold and tired began to cry and so Frank took her back to the sleigh which was driven to the cottage in the lane. Here she felt at home and was soon supremely happy devouring the ginger cookie which Mrs. Crawford had given her and in trying to pronounce English words under Harold's teaching. While the children were thus employed Mr. Tracy was divulging to Mrs. Crawford the object of his visit. He could hardly explain he said why he was so deeply interested in the child except it were that her mother had died on his premises. I can't see her go to the poor house. He continued with a trembling in his voice which made Mrs. Crawford wonder a little as she had never credited him with much sympathy for anything outside his own family. I can't see her go to the poor house and I can't well take her into my family as we have three children of our own but I have made up my mind to care for her and I have come to ask if for a compensation you will keep her here. Yes, Grandma, say yes.  Yes. You see the children plead for me, Mr. Tracy said. While she is young say until she is 10 years old I will pay you $3 a week and after that more if necessary. I know you will be kind to her and that she will be happy here and well brought up. Is it a bargain? Mrs. Crawford had never seen him so interested in anything and felt somewhat surprised and puzzled but she expressed her willingness to take the child and do what she could for her. And so Jerry's future was settled and counting out $12 Frank handed them to Mrs. Crawford saying I will pay you for four weeks in advance as you may need the money and perhaps his face grew very red as he stammered on. Perhaps it may be as well not to tell how much I pay you. People or rather well Mrs. Tracy might think it's strange and not understand why I feel such an interest in the child. I don't understand it myself. But he did understand and all the way from the cottage to the park he kept trying to reassure himself by saying I know nothing for sure. Arthur is expecting Gretchen whoever she may be. He says he has written to her and he has one of his presentiments that she was coming on the night when this woman arrived who is no more like the Gretchen he raves about than I am. This woman has a child. He says Gretchen has none and that he never saw this woman. And yet I find among the things a photograph exactly like the picture in the window while the child certainly bears a resemblance to my brother though no one else perhaps would see it. Now, sir, and he appeared to be addressing some unseen person from whom he shrank for he drew himself as far as was possible to his side of the sleigh and shivered as he went on. Now, sir, is that sufficient proof to warrant me in turning everything topsy-turvy and making Arthur crazier than he is? Certainly not. He heard in reply either from within or without he hardly knew which and he went on. I shall try to find out who the woman was, of course, and where she came from, but how am I to do it? Arthur will not tell me a word about Gretchen or what she is to him. Still I'm mean to do right by the child. Arthur cannot live many years. His nerves will wear him out if nothing else and when he dies his money will naturally come to me. Naturally, his spectral companion replied and he continued, well, what I intend doing is this. I shall make my will in which Jerry will share with my children and I shall further draw up a written request that in case I die before my brother any money which may fall to my children from him shall be shared equally with her. I shall, out of my own private funds, provide for her support and education until she comes of age or marries. Can anything more be required of me? Nothing was the consoling reply and as the sleigh just then drew up before his door, Frank alighted from it and said to himself as he ran up the steps, I believe I have been riding with the devil and have made a league with him. He found the house thoroughly aired and cleansed from all signs of the recent funeral and when at one o'clock he sat down to lunch in the handsome dining room and sipped his favorite claret and ate his foreign preserves and thought how much comfort and luxury money could buy, he was sure he had done well for himself and his children after him. But Frank Tracy never knew real peace of mind again until years after when with his sin confessed he was freed from the shadow which followed him day and night, walking by him when he walked, sitting by him when he sat and watching by him when he slept until life seemed at times unbearable. He made his will as he had said he would but he went to Springfield to have it drawn up for he knew that Calvin or any lawyer whom he might employ in Shannondale would wonder at it. He also wrote out what he called his dying request to his children in case he should die before his brother. In this he stated emphatically his wish that Jerry should have her share of whatever might come to them from the Tracy estate the same as if she were his own child. I have a good and sufficient reason for this. He wrote in conclusion and I enjoin it upon you to carry out my wishes as readily as you would were I to speak to you from my grave. This done Frank felt better and the shadow at his side was not quite as real as it had been. He put his will and his dying request in a private drawer with Gretchen's photograph and testament. He had kept this last back when the strangest trunk was sent to the cottage thinking that if it were missed and inquired for he could easily produce it as having been mislaid. At the suggestion of Mr. St. Clair he went to New York to the office of the German line of steamers and made inquiries with regard to the passengers who had come on a certain ship at such a time. But nothing could be learned of any woman with a child and after inserting in several of the New York papers a description of the woman with a request for any information concerning her which could be given he returned home with the feeling that he had done all that could be required of him. He was very kind and even tender to his brother who for several weeks suffered from low nervous depression which kept him altogether in his room to which he refused to admit anyone except his attendant and Frank. He had ceased for the time being to talk of Gretchen and never inquired for the child. Once Frank spoke of her to him and told him where she was and that she was learning to speak English very rapidly and growing prettier every day. But Arthur did not seem at all interested and only said, how can Mrs. Crawford afford to keep her? Others than Arthur asked that question and among them Dolly who with a woman's quick wit sharpened by something she accidentally saw divined the truth which she rung at last from her husband. There was a fierce quarrel, almost there first, a sick headache which lasted three days and a month or more of coldness between the married pair and then finding she could accomplish nothing for Frank was as firm as a rock, Dolly gave up the contest and tried by economizing in various ways to save the money which she felt was taken from her children by the little girl who had become so dear to Mrs. Crawford that she would not have parted with her had nothing been paid for her keeping. Chapter 17, Mr. Crazyman, do you want some cherries? More than two years had passed away since the terrible March night when the strange woman was frozen to death in the trap house and her history was still shrouded in mystery. Not a word had been heard concerning her and her story was gradually being forgotten by the people of Shannondale. Her grave, however, was tolerably well kept and every Saturday afternoon and summertime a few flowers were put on it by Harold. Not so much for the sake of the dead as for the beautiful child who always accompanied him laughing and frolicking and sometimes dancing around the grave where he told her her mother was buried. As there had been no date on which to fix Jerry's birth they had called the first day of March her birthday so that when more than two years later we introduce her to our readers on a hot July morning she was said to be six years and four months old. In some respects, however, she seemed older for there was about her a precocity only found in children who have always associated with people much older than themselves or into whose lives strange experiences had come. In stature she was very short though round and plump as a partridge. Duchy, Mrs. Tracy called her for Mrs. Tracy did not like her and took no pains to conceal her dislike though it was based upon nothing except the money which she knew was paid regularly to Mrs. Crawford for the child's maintenance. There could be no reason she said to her husband why he should support the child of a tramp and the woman had been little better judging from appearances unless indeed and then she told what old Peterkin had said more than once to the effect that Jerry Crawford as she was called was growing to be the image of the Tracy's especially Arthur. And if so, she added, you'd better let Arthur take care of her and save your money for your own children. To this Frank never replied. He knew better than old Peterkin that Jerry was like his brother and that it was not so much in the features as in the expression in certain movements of the head and hands and tones of the voice when she was an earnest. She could speak English very well now and sometimes when Frank, who was a frequent visitor at the cottage, sat watching her at her play and listening to her as she talked to herself as was her constant habit, he could have shut his eyes and sworn it was his brother's voice calling to him from the hayloft or apple tree where they had played together when boys. Jerry's favorite amusement was to make believe that either herself or a figure she had made out of a shawl was a sick woman lying on a sette which she converted into a bed. Sometimes she was the nurse and took care of the sick woman to whom she always spoke in German, bending fondly over her and occasionally holding up before her a doll which Mrs. St. Clair had given her and which she played was the woman's baby. Then she would be the sick woman herself and tying on the broad frilled cap which had been found in the trunk would slip under the covering and laying her head upon the pillow go through with all the actions of someone very sick, occasionally hugging and kissing the doll. Sometimes she enacted the pantomime of dying. Folding her hands together and closing her eyes, her lips moved as if in prayer for a moment, then stretching out her feet, she lay perfectly motionless with a set expression on the little face which looked so comical under the broad frilled cap. Then as if it had occurred to her that action was necessary from someone, she exchanged places with the lay figure and tying the cap upon its head, tucked it carefully in the bed by which she knelt, imitated perfectly the sobs and moans of a middle-aged person mingled occasionally with the clear, softer notes of a child's crying. The first time Frank witnessed this piece of acting, Jerry had been at the cottage a year and he had come to pay his weekly due. Both Mrs. Crawford and Harold were gone but knowing they would soon return as it was not in their habit to leave Jerry long alone, he sat down to wait while she went back to the corner in the kitchen which she used as her playhouse. Somebody is sick and I am taking care of her, she said to Mr. Tracy, who watched her through the pantomime of the death scene with a feeling when it was over that he had seen Gretchen die. There was not a shadow of doubt in his mind that the sick woman was Gretchen, the nurse the stranger found in the tramp house and the doll baby the little girl upon whose memory that scene had been indelibly stamped and who with her wonderful powers of imitation could rehearse it in every particular, calling her to him after her play was over, he took her in his lap and kissed the little gray face where the shadow of the scene she had been enacting had left its impress. Jerry, he said, that lady who just died in the bed with the cap on was your mama, was it not? Yes, was Jerry's reply for she's till adhered to her first pronunciation of the word and the other was the nurse. Yes, Jerry said again, money. This was puzzling for he had always supposed that by money the child meant mama, but he went on. Try to understand me, Jerry. Try to think away back before you came in the ship. Yes, I will, she said with a very wise look on her face while Mr. Tracy continued, had you a papa? Was he there with you? Nine was the prompt reply and Mr. Tracy continued, where did your mama live? Was it in Weiss Badden? He knew he did not pronounce the word right and was surprised at the sudden lighting up of the child's eyes as she tried to repeat the name. O-O-E, she began with a tremendous effort, but the W mastered her and she gave it up with a shake of her head. I not say that, O-O-E, she said, and he put the question in another form. Where did your mama die? The Tramp House, oh to death! Was the ready answer and a natural one too for she had been taught by Harold that such was the case and had often gone with him to the house which was now shunned alike by tramps and boys. No one picnic there now for the place was said to be haunted and the superstitious ones told each other that on stormy nights when the wild winds were abroad lights had been seen in the Tramp House where a pale-faced woman with her long black hair streaming down her back stood in the doorway shrieking for help while the cry of a child mingled with her call. But Harold shared none of these fancies. He was not afraid of the building and often went there with Jerry and sitting with her on the table told her again and again how he had found her mother that wintry morning and how funny she herself had looked in the old carpet bag and so it is not strange that when Mr. Tracy asked where her mother died she should answer in the Tramp House although she had acted a pantomime whose reality must have taken place under very different circumstances. Of course she died in the Tramp House and I have nothing with which to reproach myself. I am all together to morbid on the subject, Frank said and he had decided that he was a pretty good sort of fellow after all when at last Mrs. Crawford came in and he paid her for Jerry's board. In some respects he was doing his duty by the child who as time went on learned to love him better than anyone else except Harold and Mrs. Crawford whom she called grandma. She always ran to meet him when he came and sometimes when he went away accompanied him down the lane holding his hand and asking him about Tracy Park and Maud and the crazy man. This was Harold's designation of Mr. Arthur and perhaps of all the things at Tracy Park Jerry was most desirous to see him and his rooms. Harold who on one of the rare occasions when Arthur was out to dine had been sent to the house on an errand had gone with Jack into these rooms which he described a minutely to his grandmother and Jerry dwelling longest upon the beautiful picture in the window. Gretchen he calls it, he said and then Jerry who was listening intently gave a sudden upward and sidewise turn to her head just as she had done when Mr. Tracy spoke to her of this button. Gretchen, she repeated with a little hesitancy but the name was say again. He said it again and over the child's face there came a puzzled expression as if she were trying to recall something which baffled all her efforts and that evening Mrs. Crawford heard her saying to herself Gretchen, Gretchen, who am she? Jerry had seen Maud Tracy many times and had admired her greatly with her pretty white dresses and costly embroideries and once at church when Maud passed near where she was standing she stood back as far as possible and held her plain gingham dress aside as if neither it nor herself had any right to come in contact with so superior a being. Of Maud's home she knew nothing except that it was a place to be admired and gazed at breathlessly at a respectful distance. But she was going there at last with Harold who had permission to gather cherries for his grandmother from some of the many trees which grew upon the place. It was a hot morning in July and the air seemed thunderous and heavy when she set off on what to her was as important an expedition as is a trip to Europe to an older person. She wanted to wear her pink gingham dress the one kept sacred for Sunday and had even hoped that she might be allowed to display her best straw hat with the blue ribbons and cluster of apple blossoms. She had no doubt that she should go into the house and see the crazy man and Mrs. Tracy who she heard wore silk stockings every day and she wished to be suitably attired for the occasion. But Mrs. Crawford dispelled her air castles by telling her that she was only to go into the side yard where the cherry trees were and that she must be very quiet so as not to disturb Mr. Arthur whose windows looked that way. To wear her pink dress was impossible as she would get it stained with the juice of the cherries while the best hat was not for a moment to be thought of. So Jerry submitted to the dark calico frock and high-necked long-sleeved apron which Mrs. Crawford thought safe and proper for her to wear on a cherry expedition. A clean white sun bonnet with a wide cape covered her head when she started from the cottage with her tin pale on her arm. But no sooner was she in the path which led to the park than the obnoxious bonnet was removed and was swinging on her arm while she was admiring the shadow which her long bright curls made in the sunshine as she shook her head from side to side. To tell the truth our little cherry was rather vain. Passionately fond of pictures and flowers and quick to detect everything beautiful in art and nature she knew that the little face she sometimes saw in Mrs. Crawford's old-fashioned mirror was pretty and after the day when Dick St. Clair taught her that her hair was awful handsome she had felt a pride in it and in herself which all Mrs. Crawford's asseverations that handsome is that handsome does could not destroy. Ma Tracey's hair was black and straight and here she felt she had the advantage over her. I do hope we shall see her, she said to Harold as she danced along. Do you think we shall? Harold thought it doubtful and even if they did it was not likely she would speak to them, he said. Why not? Jerry asked and he replied. Oh, I suppose they feel big because they are rich and we are poor. But why ain't I rich too? Why don't I live at the park like Maude and wear low net day prints instead of this old high one? Jerry asked. But Harold could not tell and only said would you rather live at the park than with me? No, Jerry answered promptly stopping short and digging her heel into the soft loam of the path. I would not stay anywhere without you and when I live at the park you will live there too and have codfish and tato every day. This was Harold's favorite dish and as it was not his grandmother's his taste was not gratified in that respect as often as he would have liked hence Jerry's promise of the luxury. Just then at a sudden turn in the path they came upon Jack and Maude Tracy playing on a bench under a tree while a nurse was at a distance either reading or asleep. Harold would have passed them at once as he knew his grandmother was in a hurry for the cherries but Jerry had no such intention.  While side by side with this picture she saw herself in her dark calico frock and high neck tapering with her sun-bonnet and tin pale on her arm. Jerry did not like the contrast and a lump began to swell in her throat. Then as a happy thought-strucker she said was something like exaltation in her tone. My hair curls and yours don't. No, Maude answered slowly. No it don't curl but it's black and yours is yaller. This was a setback to Jerry who hated everything yellow and who had never dreamed of applying that color to her hair. She only knew that Dick St. Clair had called it pretty but in this new light thrown upon it all her pride vanished for she recognized like a flash that it might be yellow and stood there silent and vanquished until Maude who in turn had been regarding her attentively said to her, ain't you Jerry Crawford? That broke the ice of reserve and the two little girls were soon talking together familiarly and Jerry was asking Maude if she wore bees in her best clothes every day. Poo, these ain't my best clothes. I have one gown all broadry and lace, was Maude's reply while Jack who was standing near chimed in. My father's got lots of money and so has Uncle Arthur and when he dies we are going to have it. Tom says so. Slowly the shadows gathered on Jerry's brow as she said sadly, I wish I had an Uncle Arthur and could wear beads in a sash every day. Then as she looked at Harold her face brightened immediately and she exclaimed, but I have Harold and Grandma and you ain't. And running up to Harold she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him lovingly as if to make amends for the momentary repining. We must go now, Harold said, and taking her hand you let her away toward the house which impressed her with so much awe that as she drew near to it she held her breath and walked on tiptoe as if afraid that any sound from her would be sacrilege in that aristocratic atmosphere. Oh, isn't it grand Harold? Isn't it grand? She kept repeating with her mouth full of cherries after they had reached the trees on which the ripe red fruit hung so thickly. Do you suppose we shall see that crazy man? She asked and Harold replied. I guess not unless he comes to the window. Those are his rooms and that window which looks so ugly outside is the one with a picture in it and he pointed to the south wing most of the windows of which were open while against one a long ladder was standing. It had been left there by a workman who had been up to fix the hinge of a blind and who had gone to the village in quest of something he needed. Jerry saw the ladder and its close proximity to the open window and she thought to herself, I mean to fill my pail with cherries and go up that ladder and take them to him. I wonder if he will bite me. Suiting the action to the word, she stopped eating and began to pick from the lower limbs as rapidly as possible until her pail was full. Pour them into the basket. Harold called to her from the top of the tree but Jerry did not heed him. She had seen the tall figure of a man pass before the window and a pale, thin face had for a moment looked out apparently to discover whence the talking came.  She cried and before Harold could protest she was halfway up the ladder which she climbed with the agility of a little cat. Jerry, Jerry, what are you doing? Harold exclaimed, come back this minute. He doesn't like children. He tried to throw me over the banister once. He will knock you off the ladder. Oh, Jerry. And Harold's voice was almost a sob as he watched the girl going up round after round until the top was reached and she stood with her flushed, eager face just on a level with the window so that by standing on tiptoe she could look into the room. It was Arthur's bedroom and there was no one in it but she heard the sound of footsteps in the adjoining apartment and raising herself as far as possible and holding up her pale she called out in a clear shrill voice. Mr.  End of chapters 16 and 17. Chapter 18 of Gretchen by Mary Jane Holmes. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 18. Arthur and Jerry. Arthur had passed a restless night. Thoughts of Gretchen had troubled him and two or three times he had started up to listen thinking that he heard her calling to him from a distance. He had dreamed also of the blue hood seen that day of the funeral and of the child who had come knocking at his door whom he had refused to admit. He had never seen her since and had never mentioned her of his own accord. Even Mrs. Crawford seemed to have passed completely from his mind. He never went to the cottage or near it. He never went anywhere in fact but lived the life of a recluse growing thinner and paler and more reticent every day talking now but seldom of Gretchen though he never arose in the morning or retired at night without kissing her picture and whispering to it some words of tenderness in German. He had measured the length of his three rooms and dressing room and found it to be nearly 100 feet so that by passing back and forth 25 times he would walk almost a mile. Regularly each morning when it was not too cold or stormy he would throw open his windows and take his daily exercise which was but a poor substitute for what he might have had in the fresh air outside but was nevertheless much better than nothing.   He was saying to himself when the sound of voices outside attracted his attention and going to the window he saw the children Harold in the top of the tree and Jerry at the foot with her white sun-bonnet shading her face. Recognizing Harold he guessed who the little girl was and a strange feeling of interest stirred in his heart for her as he said poor little wave I wonder where she came from or what will become of her. Then resuming his walk he forgot all about the little wave until startled by a voice which rang clear and bell-like through the rooms. Mr.  It was not so much the words as something in the tone the foreign accent the ring like a voice he never could forget and which the previous night had called to him in his dreams and now it was calling again from the adjoining room which no one could enter without his knowledge. Mentally weak as he was and apt to be superstitious his limbs shook and his heart beat faster than its want as he went toward his sleeping apartment from which the voice came louder and more peremptory. Mr. Crazy Man, where are you? I've brought you some cherries. He had reached the door by this time and saw the pale on the broad window ledge where Jerry had put it and to which she was clinging with her white sun-bonnet just in view. Oh Gretchen, how did you get here? He said, bounding across the floor with no thought of Jerry in his mind, no thought of anyone but Gretchen whom he was constantly expecting to come though not exactly in this way.  Jerry said, craning her neck until her bonnet fell back disclosing to view her beautiful face flushed with excitement and her bright wavy hair which moist with perspiration clung in masses of round curls to her head and forehead. Great Heaven! Arthur exclaimed as he stood staring at the wide open blue eyes confronting him so steadily. Who are you and where did you come from? I'm Jerry and I come from the carpet bag in the tramp house. Take me in, won't you? Jerry said and mechanically leaning from the window Arthur took her in while Harold from below looked on, horrors stricken with fear as to what the result might be if Jerry was left alone with a madman who did not like children. He may kill her, I must tell the folks, he said, and going round to the side door he entered without knocking and asked for Mrs. Tracy. But she was not at home and so he told the servants of Jerry's danger and begged them to go to her rescue. Sha, he won't hurt her? Charles will come pretty soon and I'll send him up. Don't look so scared, he is harmless, the cook said to Harold who in a wild state of nervous fear went back to the cherry trees where he could listen and hear the first scream which should proclaim Jerry's danger. But none came and could he have looked into the room where Jerry stood he would have been amazed. As Arthur lifted Jerry through the window and put her down upon the floor he said to her, take off that bonnet and let me look at you. She obeyed and stood before him with an eager questioning expression in her blue eyes which looked at him so fearlessly. Arthur knew perfectly well who she was but something about her so dazed and bewildered him that for a moment he could not speak but regarded her with the hungry, wistful look of one longing for something just within his reach but still unattainable. Do you like me? Jerry asked at last. Like you? He replied. Yes, why did you not come to me sooner?   I know your name is Jerry which is a strange one for a girl and I know you live with Mrs. Crawford but before that night where did you live? Where did you come from? Out of the carpet bag in the tramp house I told you that once, Jerry said. Harold found me, I am his little girl. He is out in the cherry tree and said I must not come up because you were crazy and would hurt me. You won't hurt me, will you?  Hurt you? No, he answered as he parted the rings of her hair from her brow. I don't know whether I am crazy or not. They say so and perhaps I am when my head is full of bumblebees. Oh, Jerry gasped drawing back from him. Can they get out and will they sting? Arthur burst into a merry laugh the first he had known since he came back to Shannondale. Jerry was doing him good. There was something very soothing in the touch of the little warm hands he held in his and something puzzling and fascinating too in the face of the child. He did not think of a likeness to anyone. He only knew that he felt drawn toward her in a most unaccountable manner and found himself wondering greatly who she was.   I like pictures. Can I see them? Jerry said. Yes, you shall see them. Arthur replied, any letter into the room where Gretchen's picture looked at them from the window. Oh, my! Jerry exclaimed with bated breath. Ain't she lovely? Is she God's sister? And folding her hands together she stood before the picture as irreverently as a devout Catholic stands before Madonna. It was some time since Jerry had spoken a word of German but as she stood before Gretchen's picture old memories seemed to revive and with them the German word for pretty which she involuntarily spoke aloud. Lo, as was the utterance, it caught Arthur's ear and grasping her shoulder, he said. What was that? What did you say and where did you learn it? His manner frightened her. Perhaps the bumblebees were coming out and she drew back from him forgetting entirely what she had said. It was a German word, he continued, and the accent is German too. Can you speak it? Unconsciously as he talked he dropped into that language while Jerry listened with a strained look on her face as if trying to recall something which came and went but went more than it came if that could be. I talked that once, she said, when I lived with Mama but she is dead. Harold found her and I put flowers on her grave. Half the time she was speaking in German or trying to and Arthur listened in amazement while his interest in her deepened every moment as he took her through the rooms and showed her the marble people with nothing on them and the beautiful pictures which adorned his walls. How would you like to come and be my little girl? He asked her at last. When remembering Harold and the cherries she told him she must go and started toward the window as if she would make her egress as she had come in. Can Harold come too? I can't leave Harold, she said. Then as she caught sight of him still standing at a distance gazing curiously up at the window through which she had disappeared, she called out. Yes, Harold, I'm coming. I have seen him and everything and he did not hurt me. Goodbye. And she turned toward Arthur with a little nod. Then before he could stop her she sprang out upon the ladder and went down faster than she had come up leaving the pale of cherries and leaving too in Arthur's breast a tumult of emotions which he could not define. That night when Frank who had heard of Jerry's visit to his brother went up to see him he found him more cheerful and natural than he had seen him in weeks. As Frank expected his first words were of the little girl who had come to him through the window and left him the cherries of which he said he had eaten so many that he feared they might make him sick. What did Frank know of the child? What had he learned of her history? Of course he had made inquiries everywhere. It was just in the twilight before the gas was lighted and so Arthur did not see how his brother's face flushed at first and then grew white as he recapitulated what the reader already knows dwelling at length upon the inquiries he had made in New York all of which had been fruitless. There was the name Jereen on the child's clothing he said and the initials NB on that of her mother who was evidently French although she must have come from Germany. Yes, Arthur replied. The child is German and interests me greatly. Her face has haunted me all the afternoon. Was there nothing in that trunk or the carpet bag which could be a clue? Nothing, Frank replied. There were articles of clothing all very plain and a picture book printed at Leipzig. I can get that for you if you like though it tells nothing unless it be that the mother lived in Leipzig. Frank talked very rapidly and laid so much stress on Leipzig that Arthur got an idea that Jereen had actually come from there just as his brother meant he should and he began to speak of the town and recall all he knew of it. I was never there but once, he said, for although I spent a great deal of time in Germany it was mostly in Heidelberg and Wiesbaden. Oh, that is lovely, Wiesbaden. And at night now when I cannot sleep I fancy that I am there again in the lovely park and hear the music of the band and see the crowds of people strolling through the grounds and I am there with them, though apart from the rest, just where a narrow path turns off from a bridge and a seat is half hidden from view behind the thick shrubberies. There I sit again with Gretchen and feel her hand in mine and her dear head on my arm. Oh, Gretchen. There was a sob now in his voice and he seemed to be talking to himself rather than to his brother who said to him, Gretchen lived in Wiesbaden then. Yes, but for heaven's sake, pronounce it with a V and not a W and in three syllables instead of four, Arthur answered pettishly his ear offended as it always was with a discordant sound or mispronunciation. Wiesbaden then. Frank repeated, understanding now why Jerry had stumbled over the name when he once spoke it to her. Clearly she had come from Wiesbaden where Gretchen had lived and where he believed she had died though he did not tell Arthur so. He merely said, Gretchen was your sweetheart, I suppose. But Arthur did not reply. He never replied to direct questions as to who Gretchen was, but after a moment's silence he said, you speak of her as something past, do you believe she is dead? Yes, I do, was Frank's decided answer. You have never told me who she was though I have my own opinion on the subject and I know you loved her very much and if she loved you as much. She did, she did. She loved me more, far more than I deserved, was Arthur's vehement interruption. Well then, Frank continued, if she did and were living she would have come to you or answered your letters or sent you some message. Frank's voice trembled here and he seemed to see again the cold still face of the dead woman whose lips could they have spoken might have unlocked the mystery and brought a message from Gretchen. True, true, Arthur replied. She would have come or written. How long is it since I came home? Four years next October, Frank said. Four years, Arthur went on. Is it so long as that? And it was then years since I had seen her. Everything was blotted out from my mind from the time I entered that accursed Maison de Santé until I found myself in Paris. I am afraid she is dead. Just then Charles came in with lights and the chocolate his master always took before retiring and so Frank said good night and went out upon the broad piazza hoping the night air would cool his heated brow or that the laughter and prattle of Jack and Maud who were fowlicking on the gravel walk would drown the voice which said to him, Frank Tracy you are the biggest rascal living but you have gone too far now to go back. People would never respect you again. And then there is Maud. You cannot disgrace her. No, he could not disgrace his darling Maud who as if guessing that he was thinking of her came up the steps to his side and seating herself upon his lap pushed the hair from his forehead and kissed him lovingly. My beautiful Maud, he thought for he knew she would be beautiful with her black hair and starry eyes and brilliant complexion and he loved her with all the strength of his nature. To see her grow into womanhood, admired and sought after by everyone was the desire of his heart and as he believed that money was necessary to the perfect fulfillment of his desire for her sake he would carry his secret to the grave. Are you sick, Papa? Maud asked looking into his face on which the moon shone brightly. No, Pet, he answered her, only tired. I am thinking of little Jerry Crawford. She was here this afternoon. Yes, I saw her in the park with Harold. Isn't he handsome, Papa? And such a nice boy. So different from Tom, Maud said and then she went on. Jerry is pretty too, prettier than I am. Her hair curls and mine doesn't but her dress is so ugly. That old high apron and calico gown. What makes her so poor and me so rich? Mr. Tracy groaned as he replied, You are not rich, my child. Oh, yes I am, Maud said. I heard Mama tell Mrs. Brinsmaid so. She said Uncle Arthur was worth millions and when he died we should have it all because he could not make a will if he wanted to and he had no children of his own. Maud had heard so much from her mother and others of their prospective wealth that she understood the situation far better than she ought and was already counting on the thousands waiting for her when her uncle died. And yet Maud Tracy had in her nature qualities which were to ripen into a noble womanhood. Truthful and generous her instincts of right and wrong were very keen and young as she was she had no respect for anything like deception or trickery. This her father knew and his bitterest pang of remorse came from the thought, what would Maud say if she knew? And it was more for her sake he was sinning than for his own or that of any other. She was so pretty or would be when grown to young ladyhood and the adornments which money could bring would so well become her. Maud, he said at last, how would you like to change places with Jerry? That is, let her come here and live while we go away and be poor. Not quite as she is but like many people. And not wear a sash and beads and button boots every day. Maud interrupted him quickly. I should not like it at all. Why Jerry dresses herself and wipes the dishes and wears those big aprons all the time. No, I don't want to be poor. And as if something in her father's mind had communicated itself to her she raised her head from his shoulder and looked beseechingly at him. Nor shall you be poor if I can help it, he said. But you must be very kind to Jerry and never let her feel that you are richer than she.  I think I do. Maud answered, adding as she kissed him fondly. And now I suppose I must go for there is yet he come for me. So good night, you dearest best papa in the world. He knew she believed in him fully and he could not undeceive her. He would bear the burden he said to himself. There should be no more repining or looking back. Maud must never know. And so Jerry's chance was lost. The next morning Arthur awoke with a racking headache. He was accustomed to it, it is true, but this one was particularly severe. It's the cherries, no wonder. A quarter of those sour things would turn upside down any stomach. Charles said as he glanced at the empty tin pail which was adorning an inlaid table and then suggested a dose of Ipacac as a means of dislodging the offending cherries. But Arthur declined the medicine. His stomach was well enough, he said. It was his head which ached and nothing would help that but the cool little hands he had held in his the previous day. Charles must go for Jerry for he wanted her and as when Arthur wanted a thing he wanted it immediately. Charles was soon on his way to the cottage in the lane where he found the little girl under a tall lilac bush busy with mud pies she was making and talking to herself partly in English and partly in broken German which she had resumed since her visit to the park. Seemed like something I had dreamed when he talked like that and I could almost do it myself. She said to Harold when describing the particulars of her interview with Mr. Tracy and her tongue fell naturally into the language of her babyhood. On hearing Charles's air and her delight was unbounded. Yes, he'll let me go. She cried as she stood before Mrs. Crawford with the mud spots on her hands and face and you'll let me wear my best gown now and my white apron with the shoulder straps and my Morocco shoes because this is visiting. As Mrs. Crawford could see no objection to the plan Jerry was soon dressed and on her way to the park tripping along airily with an air of dignity and importance very amusing. Mrs. Tracy who seldom troubled herself with her brother-in-law's affairs knew nothing of his having sent for Jerry and was surprised when she saw her coming up the walk with Charles whose manner indicated that he knew perfectly what he was about. She had heard of Jerry's visit on the previous day and had wondered what Arthur could find in that child to interest him when he would never allow Maude in his room. She did not like Jerry because of the $3 a week which she felt was so much taken from herself and why they should be burdened with the support of the child just because her mother happened to be found dead upon their premises she could not understand. Only that morning she had spoken to her husband on the subject and asked him how long he proposed to support her. Just as long as I have a dollar of my own and she needs it was his reply as he left the room slamming the door behind him and leaving her to thank him almost as crazy as his brother. Thus it was not in a very quiet frame of mind that she went out upon the piazza and taking one of the large willow chairs standing there began to rock back and forth and wonder what had so changed her husband making him silent and absent-minded and even irritable at times as he had been that morning. Was there insanity in his veins as well as in his brothers and would her children inherit it? Her darling Maude of whom she was so proud and who she hoped would someday be the richest Harris in the county and Mary Dick St. Clair if indeed she did not look higher. It was at this point in her soliloquy that she saw Jerry coming up the walk her face glowing with excitement and her manner one of freedom and assurance. Ascending the steps, Jerry nodded and smiled at the lady whose expression was not very inviting and who to the child's remark, I've come again, answered icily. I see you have, seems to me you come pretty often. Turning to Charles Mrs. Tracy continued, why is she here again so soon? What does she want? Quick to interpret the meaning of the tones of a voice and hearing disapprobation in Mrs. Tracy's, Jerry's face was shadowed at once and she looked up and treating Lee at Charles who said, Mr. Tracy sent me for her, she was with him yesterday and he will have her again today. Then Jerry's face brightened and she chimed in, I'm visiting, I'm invited and I'm going to stay to eat. Mrs. Tracy dared not interfere with Arthur even if he took Jerry to live there all together and with a bend of her head she signified to Charles that the conference was ended. Come, Jerry, Charles said but Jerry held back a moment and asked, where's Mott? If Mrs. Tracy heard, she did not reply and Jerry followed on after Charles through the hall and up the broad staircase to the darkened room where Arthur lay, suffering intense pain in his head and moaning occasionally. But he heard the patter of the little feet for he was listening for it and when Jerry entered his room he raised himself upon his elbow and reaching the other hand toward her said, so you have come again little Jerry or perhaps I should call you little Jerry considering how you first came to me. Would you like that name? Yes, was Jerry's reply in the quick half-lisping way which made the monosyllable so attractive. Well then, Jerry, Arthur continued, take off that bonnet and open the blind behind me.  It takes enough to split and I believe the bumblebees are swarming but they can't get out and if they could they are the white-faced kind which never sting. Jerry knew all about white-faced bumblebees for Harold had caught them for her and with this fear removed she did as Arthur bad her and was soon seated at his side rubbing his forehead where the blue veins were standing out full and round and smoothing his hair caressingly with her fingers which seemed to have in them a healing power for the pain and heat grew less under their touch and after a while Arthur fell into a quiet sleep. When he awoke after half an hour or so it was with a delicious sense of rest and freedom from pain.  Jerry, Arthur said to her and she was at his side in a moment.  The ache is all gone from my head charmed away by your hands.  Where did you live? What was your mother's name? Try and recall all you can. Jerry however could tell him very little besides the tramp house and the carpet bag and Harold letting her fall in the snow. Of the cold and the suffering she could recall nothing or of the journey from New York in the cars. She did remember something about the ship and her mother's seasickness but where she lived before she went to the ship she could not tell. It was a big town she thought and there was music there and a garden and somebody sick. That was all. Everything else was gone entirely except now and then when vague glimpses of something in the past bewildered and perplexed her. Her pantomime of the dying woman and the child had not been repeated for more than a year for now her acting always took the form of the tragedy in the tramp house with herself in the carpet bag and a lay figure dead beside her. But gradually as Arthur questioned her the old memories began to come back and shape themselves in her mind and she said at last, it was like this.  I can't think of her name. I guess I'll call her Manny. And there must be a baby, that's me, only I can't think of my name. Call it Jerry then. Arthur suggested, both interested and amused though he did not quite understand what she meant. But he was passive in her hands and submitted to have a big handkerchief put over his head for a cap and to hold on his arm the baby she improvised from a sofa cushion of costly plush around which she arranged as a dress an expensive table spread tied with the rich cord and tassel of his dressing gown. You must cry a great deal. She said and pray a great deal and kiss the baby a great deal and I must scold you some for crying so much and shake the baby some in the kitchen for making a noise because you know the baby can walk and talk and is me only I can't be both at a time.  He cried when she told him to cry. He coughed when she told him to cough. He kissed the baby when she told him to kiss it. He took the medicine from the tin pail in the form of the cherry juice left there and did not have to make believe that it sickened him as she said he must for that was a reality. But when she told him he must die but pray first he demured and asked what he should say. Jerry hesitated a little. She knew that her prayers were our father and now I lay me but it seemed to her that a person dying should say something else and at last she replied, I can't think what she did say only a lot about him. There was a him somewhere and I guess he was naughty so pray for him and the baby, that's me, and tell Manny she must take me to Mekki. To whom? Arthur asked and she replied. To Mekki where he was, don't you know? Arthur did not know but he prayed for him saying what she bad him say, a mixture of half English, half German. There now you are dead. She said at last as she closed his eyes and folded his hands upon his chest. You are dead and mustn't stir nor breathe no matter how awful we cry Manny and I. Kneeling down beside him she began to cry so like that of two persons that if Arthur had not known to the contrary he would have sworn there were two beside him, a woman and a child, the voice of one shrill and clear and young and frightened, the other older and harsher and stronger and both blending together in a most astonishing manner. With a little practice she would make a wonderful ventriloquist. Arthur thought as he watched her flitting about the room talking to unseen people and giving orders with regard to himself. Once Frank had witnessed a pantomime very similar to this only then the play had ended with the death while now there was the burial and when Arthur moved a little and asked if he might get up she laid a hand quickly on his mouth with a peremptory. Hush, you are dead and we must bury you. But here Jerry's memory failed her and the funeral which followed was an imitation of the one which had left the park house three years before and which Arthur had watched from his window. Frank was there and his wife and Peterkin and Jerry imitated the voices of them all and when someone bad her kiss her mother she stooped and kissed Arthur's forehead and said, Goodbye, Mama.  To one of his superstitious tendencies the whole was terribly real and when at last she told him he was married and the folks had come back and he could get up. The sweat was standing upon his face and hands in great drops and he felt that he had in very truth been present at the obsequies of someone whose death had made an impression so strong upon Jerry's mind that time had not erased it. There was in his heart no thought of Gretchen as there had been in Frank's when he was a spectator at the play. He had no cause for suspicion and thought only of the child whose restlessness and activity were something appalling to him. Now what shall we play next? She asked as he sat white and trembling in his chair. Oh, nothing, nothing, he groaned. I cannot stand any more now. Well then, use it still and I'll clean house. It needs it badly. Such mud as that boy brings in I never see and I'm so lame too. Jerry responded and Arthur now recognized Mrs. Crawford whose tidiness and cleanliness were proverbial and for the next half hour he watched the little actress as she limped around the room exactly as Mrs. Crawford limped with her rheumatism, sweeping, dusting and scolding, both to Harold and Jerry, the latter of whom once retorted. I wouldn't be so cross as that if I had 40 rheumatisms in my legs, would you, Harold? But Harold only answered softly. Hush, Jerry, you should not speak so to Grandma and she's so good to us both when we haven't any mother. Arthur would have laughed so perfect was the imitation of voice and gesture but at the mention of Harold's mother there came into his mind a vision of sweet Amy Crawford who had been his first love and for whose son he had really done so little. Jerry, he said, I guess you have cleaned house long enough. Wash your hands and come to me. She obeyed him and looking into his face said, Now what? Can you play cat's cradle or casino? No, I want to talk to you of Harold. You love him very much. Oh, a hundred bushels. Him and Grandma too. And he is very kind to you. Yes, I guess he is. He never talks back and I am awful sometimes. And once I spit at him and struck him but I was so sorry and cried all night and offered to give him my best doll cause it was the play thing I loved most and I went without my piece of pie so he could have two pieces if he wanted. Jerry said, her voice trembling as she made this confession which gave Arthur a better insight into her real character than he had had before. Hasty, impulsive, repentant, generous and very affectionate he felt sure she was and he continued, does Harold go to school? Yes, and I too, to the district but I hate it, Jerry replied. Why hate it, Arthur asked. What is the matter with the district school? Oh, it smells awful there sometimes when it is hot. Jerry replied with an upward turn to her nose and the boys are so mean some of them. Bill Peterkin goes there and I can't bear him. He plagues me so. Wants to kiss me. Ah, and says I am to be his wife and he's got warts on his thumb. Jerry's face was sufficiently indicative of the disgust she felt for Bill Peterkin with his warts and leaning back in his chair, Arthur laughed heartily as he said and so you don't like Bill Peterkin? Well, what boys do you like? Harold and Dick St. Clair was the prompt response and Arthur continued. What would you have in place of the district school? A governess, was Jerry's answer. Nina St. Clair has one and an Eliza Peterkin has one and Ma Tracey has one. Here Jerry stopped suddenly as if struck with a new idea. Why, Ma does your little girl, isn't she?  I wish I was your little girl. She spoke the last very sadly and something in the expression of her face brought Gretchen to Arthur's mind and his voice was choked as he said to her. I'd give half my fortune if you were my little girl. Then, laying his hand on her bright hair, he questioned her adroitly of her life at the cottage, finding that it was a very happy one and that she had never known want, although Mrs. Crawford was unable to work as she once had done and was largely dependent upon the price for Jerry's board, which Frank paid regularly. On this, however, Jerry did not speak. She only said, Harold works in the furnace and in folks' gardens and does lots of things for everybody and once Bill Peterkin twitted him because he goes to Mrs. Baker sometimes after stuff for the pig and Harold cried and I got up early the next morning and went after it myself and drew the cart home. After that, Grandma wouldn't let Harold go for any more and so I suppose the pig will not weigh as much. I'm sorry for I like sausage, don't you? Arthur hated it, but he did not tell her so and so she went on. Harold studies awful hard and wants to go to college. He is trying to learn Latin and recites to Dick St. Clair but Grandma says it's upheld business. Oh, if I's only rich I give it all to Harold and he should get learning like Dick. Maybe I can work some time and earn some money. I wish I could. Arthur did not speak for a long time but sat looking at the child whose face now was a poor and old and troubled look. In his mind he was revolving a plan which with his usual precipitancy he resolved to carry into effect at once. But he said nothing of it to Jerry whose attention was diverted by the entrance of Charles and the preparations for luncheon which on the little girl's account was served with more care than usual. Jerry who had a great liking for everything luxurious had taken tea once or twice at grassy spring with Nina St. Clair and had been greatly impressed with the appointments of the table prizing them more even than the deities for her to eat. But what she had seen there seemed as nothing compared to this round Swiss table with its colored glass and rare china no two pieces of which were alike. Oh, it's just like a dream. She cried as she watched Charles's movement and saw that there were two places laid. Am I to sit down with you? She said in a nostruck voice and in that lovely chair. I am glad I wore my best gown. It won't dirty the chair a bit. But she took her pocket handkerchief and covered it over the satin cushion before she dared seat herself in the chair which had once been brought out for Gretchen and in which she now sat down dropping her head and shutting her eyes a moment. Then as she heard no sound she looked up wonderingly and asked, ain't you going to say for Christ's sake? Grandma does. Arthur's face was a study with its mixed expression of surprise, amusement and self-reproach. He never prayed except it were in some ejaculatory sentences rung from him in his sore need and the thought of asking a blessing on his food had never occurred to him. But Jerry was persistent. You must say for Christ's sake. She continued and with his weak brain all in a muddle Arthur began what he meant to be a brief thanksgiving but which stretched itself into a lengthy prayer full of the past and of Gretchen whom he seemed to be addressing rather than his maker. For a while Jerry listened reverently and she looked up and moved uneasily in the chair and at last when the prayer had continued for at least five minutes she burst out impulsively. Oh dear, do say amen. I am so hungry. That broke the spell and with a start Arthur came to himself and said, thank you, Jerry. Praying is a new business for me and I do believe I should have gone on forever if you had not stopped me. Now what will you have? He helped her to whatever she liked best but could eat scarcely anything himself. It was sufficient for him to watch Jerry sitting there in Gretchen's chair and using Gretchen's plate which every day for so many years had been laid for her. Gretchen had not come. She would never come, he feared, but with Jerry he did not feel half as desolate as when alone with only his morbid fancies for company. And he must have her there at least a portion of the time. His mind was made up on that point and when about four o'clock Jerry said to him, I want to go now. Grandma said I was to be home by five. He replied, yes, I am going with you. I wish to see your grandmother. I am going to drive you in the Phaeton. How would you like that? Her dancing eyes told him how she would like it and Charles was sent to this table with an order to have the little pony Phaeton brought round as soon as possible as he was going for a drive. End of chapter 18.