n't I
stick to Dolly, who said, "You certainly do not care for him. He hasn't
a cent to his name, nor any family and has even worked in Peterkin's
furnace." What Maude replied I do not know, I only heard Dolly bang the
door hard as she left the room, so I suppose the answer was not a
pleasing one. Dolly is a grand lady and would not like her daughter to
marry an ordinary man like Harold.'

'No,' Jerrie said, slowly, as if speaking were an effort. 'N-no; and you
think Harold likes Maude very much?'

'Likes her? Yes. Why shouldn't he like a girl as pretty as she is,
especially when she meets him more than half way?' Arthur replied, and
Jerrie continued in the same measured tone:

'Ye-es, and you think he would marry her if her mother would permit it?'

'He is not at all likely to do that,' Arthur answered, quickly, 'A man
seldom marries a woman who throws herself at his head and lets him see
how much she cares for him, and Maude is doing just that. She cannot
conceal anything. I tell you, Cherry, if the time ever comes when you
love somebody better than all the world beside, don't let him know until
he speaks for himself. Don't be lightly won. Better be shy and cold,
than demonstrative and gushing, like Maude. Gretchen was shy as a fawn,
and after I told her I loved her she would not believe it possible. But,
child, you look fagged and tired. It is time you were in bed. I have
talked you nearly to death.'

'I am not tired,' Jerrie said, 'and I want to know what it is about
Maude's going to the cottage, which you must not tell me. Is she there
very, very often, and does Harold like to have her come, and is that
throwing herself at his head, as you call it?'

She had her arm around his neck in a coaxing kind of way, and Arthur
smoothed the soft white hand resting on his coat-collar, as he answered,
laughingly:

'Mother Eve herself. You would have eaten the apple, too, had you been
Mrs. Adam. No, no, I shall not tell any secrets. You must wait and see
for yourself. And now you must go, for I am tired myself.'

She said good-night, and went to her room, but not to sleep at once,
because of the tumult of emotions which had been roused by what Arthur
had told her of Maude and Harold.

'I don't believe now that I really meant him to make love to her when I
asked him to amuse her,' she whispered to herself, as she dashed away
two great tear-drops from her cheeks.

Then, after a moment, she continued:

'But they shal