‘Not at all,’ Harold replied.  ’I had the idea in my head long before you wrote that to me, but could not quite see my way clear until last spring.  I have seen Nina’s room and Maude’s, and have heard that Ann Eliza Peterkin’s was finer than the Queen’s at Windsor, and I did not like to think of you in the cooped up place this was, with the slanting roof and low windows.  I am glad you like it.’

And then, knowing that she would never let him rest until he had done so, he told her all the ways and means by which he had been able to accomplish it, except indeed, his own self-denials and sacrifices of pride, and even comfort.  But this she understood, and noticed again more carefully the shabby coat, and pants, and shoes, and the calloused hands, which lay upon his knees as he talked, and which she wished so much to take in hers and kiss and pity, for the hard work they had done for her.  But this would have been ‘throwing herself at his head.’

She was constantly thinking of Arthur’s words, and so she only cried the more, as she told Harold how much she thanked him, and never could repay him for what he had done for her.

‘But it was a pleasure, Jerrie,’ he said.’  I never enjoyed anything in my life as I have working in this room, with Maude to help me.  She was here nearly every day, and by her courage and enthusiasm kept me up to fever heat.  She puttied up the nail-holes and painted your dressing-room, and would have helped shingle the roof if I had permitted it.  She gave the chair you sit in, and the table in the window.  She would do that and I let her; but when Mr. Arthur offered his assistance, and the other Mr. Tracy, I refused, for I wanted it all my own, for you.’

He was speaking rapidly and excitedly, and had Jerrie looked she would have seen in his face all she was to him; but she did not look up, and at mention of Maude a cloud fell suddenly upon her.  But she would not let it remain; she would be happy and make Harold so, too.  So she told him again of her delight, and what a joyous coming home it was.

She had not yet seen Arthur’s card, and photograph, and note; but Harold called her attention to them; and taking up the latter, she opened it, while her heart gave a great throb of something between joy and pain as she saw the words, ‘My dear child,’ and then went on to read the note so characteristic of him.

’What a strange fancy of his to go off so suddenly to California.  I wonder Mr. Frank allowed it,’ she said, as she put the note in her pocket, and then, at a call from Mrs. Crawford, went down to where the supper was waiting for her.

The tea cakes were a little cold, but everything else was delicious, from the fragrant tea to the ripe berries and thick, sweet cream, and Jerrie enjoyed it all with the keen relish of youth and perfect health.

After supper was over Jerrie made her grandmother sit still while she washed up and put away the dishes, singing as she worked, and whistling, too—­loud, dear, ringing strains, which made a robin in the grass fly up to the perch, where, with his head turned on one side he listened, as if in wonder, to this new songster, whose notes were strange to him.