iting the action to the word she stopped eating; and began to pick
from the lower limbs as rapidly as possible until her pail was full.

'Pour them into the basket,' Harold called to her from the top of the
tree, but Jerry did not heed him. She had seen the tall figure of a man
pass before the window, and a pale, thin face had for a moment, looked
out, apparently to discover whence the talking came.

'I'm going to take the crazyman some cherries,' she tried, and almost
before Harold could protest, she was half way up the ladder, which she
climbed with the agility of a little cat.

'Jerry, Jerry! What are you doing!' Harold exclaimed, 'Come back this
minute. He doesn't like children; he tried to throw me over the banister
once; he will knock you off the ladder; oh, Jerry!' and Harold's voice
was almost a sob as he watched the girl going up round after round until
the top was reached, and she stood with her flushed, eager face, just on
a level with the window so that by standing on tiptoe, she could look
into the room.

It was Arthur's bedroom, and there was no one in it, but she heard the
sound of footsteps in the adjoining apartment, and raising herself as
far as possible, and holding up her pail, she called out in a clear,
shrill voice;

'Mr. Crazyman, Mr. Crazyman, don't you want some cherries?'

CHAPTER XVIII.

ARTHUR AND JERRY.

Arthur had passed a restless night. Indeed all his nights were restless,
but this one had been especially so. Thoughts of Gretchen had troubled
him in his dreams, and two or three times he had started up to listen,
thinking that he heard her calling to him from a distance. He had
dreamed also of the blue hood seen that day of the funereal, now more
than two years ago, and of the child who had come knocking at his door,
first with her hands and then with her feet, but whom he had refused to
admit. He had never seen her since, and had never inquired for her of
his own accord. Two or three times his brother had spoken of her in a
casual way, telling him once that she was with Mrs. Crawford. Arthur had
then asked how she could afford to keep her, and Frank had made no
reply. But the second time when he spoke of Jerry, and Arthur, more
interested in Mrs. Crawford than in her, had asked the same question,
Frank had said:

'She cannot afford it, I pay her three dollars a week.'

For a moment Arthur looked inquiringly at him; then he said:

'You are a good fellow after all, even