‘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.  A-a-h, and says I am to be his wife, and he has 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 you do not like Bill Peterkin?  Well, what boys do you like?’

‘Harold and Dick St. Claire,’ 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. Claire has one, and Ann Eliza Peterkin has one, and Maude Tracy has one.’

Here Jerry stopped suddenly, as if struck with a new idea.

’Why, Maude is your little girl, isn’t she?  You are her rich uncle, and she is to have all your money when you die.  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.  Of 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’s 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, so I s’pose 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 she went on.

’Harold studies awful hard, and wants to go to college.  He is trying to learn Latin and recites to Dick St. Claire; but grandma says it is up-hill business.  Oh, if I’s only rich I’d 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 wore an 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.