rain as something
immensely characteristic. Apparently he was not afraid of
anything--God, man, or devil. He used to look at her, holding her
chin between the thumb and fingers of his big brown hand, and say:
"You're sweet, all right, but you need courage and defiance. You
haven't enough of those things." And her eyes would meet his in dumb
appeal. "Never mind," he would add, "you have other things." And then
he would kiss her.

One of the most appealing things to Lester was the simple way in
which she tried to avoid exposure of her various social and
educational shortcomings. She could not write very well, and once he
found a list of words he had used written out on a piece of paper with
the meanings opposite. He smiled, but he liked her better for it.
Another time in the Southern hotel in St. Louis he watched her
pretending a loss of appetite because she thought that her lack of
table manners was being observed by nearby diners. She could not
always be sure of the right forks and knives, and the strange-looking
dishes bothered her; how did one eat asparagus and artichokes?

"Why don't you eat something?" he asked good-naturedly. "You're
hungry, aren't you?"

"Not very."

"You must be. Listen, Jennie. I know what it is. You mustn't feel
that way. Your manners are all right. I wouldn't bring you here if
they weren't. Your instincts are all right. Don't be uneasy. I'd tell
you quick enough when there was anything wrong." His brown eyes held a
friendly gleam.

She smiled gratefully. "I do feel a little nervous at times," she
admitted.

"Don't," he repeated. "You're all right. Don't worry. I'll show
you." And he did.

By degrees Jennie grew into an understanding of the usages and
customs of comfortable existence. All that the Gerhardt family had
ever had were the bare necessities of life. Now she was surrounded
with whatever she wanted--trunks, clothes, toilet articles, the
whole varied equipment of comfort--and while she liked it all, it
did not upset her sense of proportion and her sense of the fitness of
things. There was no element of vanity in her, only a sense of joy in
privilege and opportunity. She was grateful to Lester for all that he
had done and was doing for her. If only she could hold
him--always!

The details of getting Vesta established once adjusted, Jennie
settled down into the routine of home life. Lester, busy about his
multitudinous affairs, was in and out. He had a suite of rooms
reserve