'Her father was a German, and probably they lived in Germany, but the
mother was certainly French.'

His own knowledge of German was very limited, but he could speak it a
little, and turning again to the child he managed to say:

'What is your name!'

'Der-ree,' was the reply, and Harold exclaimed:

'That's it; she means Jerry; that's short for the name on her clothes,
which you said was pronounced Jereen. I have christened her Jerry, and
she is my little girl, ain't you, Jerry!'

'Yah--oui--'ess,' 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
the ''ess' with a nod 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?'

'Yah--'ess,' was the reply.

Then Mr. St. Claire tried to question her further with regard to herself
and her home, but his phraseology was probably at fault, for no
satisfactory result was reached beyond the fact that her mother was
dead, that her name was Jerry, or Derree, as she called it, and that she
had been on a ship with Mah-nee, who did _so_--and she imitated
perfectly the motions and contortions of one who is deathly sea-sick.

'I suppose she means her mother by Mah-nee,' said Mr. St. Claire; and
when he asked her if it were not so, she answered 'yah,' and ''ess,' as
she did to 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 ''ess,' which
she repeated quickly, with a prolonged sound on the 's.'

When at last Mr. St. Claire 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 Tracys 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 Brier
Hill, where his children, Dick and Nina,