uick reply:

'Yes, but Mrs. Peterkin says you do not pay enough.'

'Perhaps not,' he continued, 'but if Mrs. Crawford is satisfied, it
matters little what Mrs. Peterkin thinks. Jerry, you _must_ do this for
me,' he went on rapidly, as his fears kept growing. 'You must never tell
anyone of our conversation, and if my brother writes that letter soon,
or at any time, you must bring it to me. Will you do it? Great harm
would come if it were sent--harm to me, and harm to Maude, and--'

'To Maude!' Jerry replied. 'I would do anything for Maude. Yes, I will
bring the letter to you if he writes one. You are sure it would be right
for me to do so?'

Frank had touched the right cord when he mentioned his daughter's name,
for during these years of close companionship the two little girls had
learned to love each other devotedly, though naturally Jerry's was the
stronger and less selfish attachment of the two. To her Maude was a
queen who had a right to tyrannize over and command her if she pleased;
and as the tyranny was never very severe, and was usually followed by
some generous act of contrition, she did not mind it at all, and was
always ready to make up and be friends whenever it suited the capricious
little lady.

'Yes, I will do it for Maude,' she said again; but there was a troubled
look on her face, and a feeling in her heart as if, in some way, she was
false to Arthur in thus consenting to his brother's wishes.

But, she reflected, Arthur was crazy, so people said, and she herself
knew better than anyone else of his many fanciful vagaries, which, at
times, took the form of actual insanity. For weeks he would seem
perfectly rational, and then suddenly his mood would change, and he
would talk strange things to himself and the child, who was now so
necessary to him, and who alone had a soothing influence over him. Only
the day before, as Jerry had told Frank, Arthur had been unusually
excited, after listening to a simple air which he had taught to her, and
which, at his request, she sang to him after Maude had gone out and left
them alone.

'I could swear you were Gretchen, singing to me in the twilight, and
across the meadow comes the tinkle of the bells where the cows and goats
are feeding,' he said to her, as he paced up and down the room.'

Then, stopping suddenly, he went up to her, and pushing her soft, wavy
hair from her forehead, looking long and earnestly into her face.

'Cherry,' he said at last, using t