morning, people began to gather at the Park House, and the avenue seemed
full of them. The news that an unknown woman had been frozen to death in
the Tramp House had spread far and wide, awakening in many a curiosity
to see the stranger, and discover, if possible, a likeness to some one
they might have known.

It was strange how many reminiscences were brought to mind by this
circumstance of girls who had disappeared years before and were supposed
to be dead--or worse. And this woman might be one of them; indeed,
Peterkin had said that she was, and they came in crowds to see her, and
to see, as well, the inside of the handsome house, of which they had
heard so much, especially since Mr. Arthur's return. But in this they
were disappointed, for all the front rooms were locked against them, and
only the large dining-room, the breakfast-room, the servants' hall, and
the little back office were thrown open to the public. In the first of
these the corpse was lying in a substantial, handsome coffin, for Frank,
who ordered it, would have no other; and when the undertaker suggested a
cheaper one would answer just as well, had said, decidedly:

'I mean to bury her decently. Give me this one, and send the bill to me,
not to Arthur.'

It was _his_ funeral, and, judging from his face, he was burying all his
friends, instead of a poor, unknown woman, whose large, coarse features
and plain woollen dress looked out of place in that handsome black
coffin, with its silver-plated trimmings. Frank had suggested that she
should have a white merino shroud, but his wife had overruled him. It
was _not_ her funeral, and she had no interest in it, except that it
should be over as soon as possible, and the house cleansed from the
atmosphere of death. So when her husband asked if the child ought not to
have a mourning-dress, she scoffed at him for the suggestion saying she
did not like to see children in black anyway, and even if she died
herself she should not wish hers to wear it.

'I cannot imagine,' she continued, 'why you have taken so unaccountable
a fancy to and interest in these people, especially the child. One would
think she belonged to royalty, the fuss you make over her. What are we
to do with her to-night? Where is she to sleep?'

'In the nursery,' was his reply; and he saw his wishes carried out and
ordered in a crib, which used to be Jack's, and bade the nurse see that
she was comfortable.

So Jerry was put to bed in the nu