‘Yes, grandma—­say yes!’ Harold cried; while Jerry, with her mouth full of cookie, repeated, ’ay ‘ess.’

‘You see, the children plead for me,’ Mr. Tracy said, with a smile at the little girl, whose hand just then swept back the hair from her eyes, which looked steadily at him as he went on:  ’While she is young—­say, until she is ten years old—­I will pay you three dollars 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.

‘It will be a good thing for Harold,’ she said, ’as he is in danger of growing selfish here alone with me.’

And so Jerry’s future was settled, and counting out twelve dollars, Frank handed them to Mrs. Crawford, saying: 

’I will pay you for four weeks in advance, as you may need the money, and—­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 strange, and not understand why I feel such an interest in the child.  I don’t understand it myself.’

But he did understand, and his knees were shaking under him as, when the transaction was over, and he was on his way to the Park, he felt that he had sold himself to Satan.

‘And yet I know nothing for sure,’ he kept repeating to himself.  ’Arthur is expecting Gretchen, whoever she may be.  He says he has written to her, and he has one of his presentiments that she is coming on the night when this woman arrives, 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, and also like the child, who certainly bears a resemblance to my brother, though no one else, perhaps, would see it.  Now, sir,’ he appeared to be addressing himself to some person unseen, 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 seemed to hear 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, and where she came from; but how am I to do it? how begin?  Arthur will not tell me a word about Gretchen, who she is, or what she is to him.  Still, I mean to be on the safe side, and do right by the child.  Arthur cannot live many years.  His nerves will wear him out, if nothing else, and when he does, his money will naturally come to me.’

‘Naturally,’ his spectral companion replied, and he continued: