gly upon her and kept
caressing her hands and her face, as if she would thus express her
gladness to see her.

'I know all about it, Maude,' Jerrie said. 'Tom told me, and your
mother. You tired yourself out for me. Hush! Don't speak, or I shall go
away,' she continued, as she saw Maude's lips move. 'You are not to
talk. You are to listen, just for a day or two, and then you will he
better, and come to the cottage and see my lovely room. It is so pretty,
and I like it so much, and thank you and Harold so much. He has gone to
the Allen farm to-day to paint,' she said, in answer to an eager
questioning look in Maude's eyes. 'He does not know you are sick. He
will come when he can see you--to-morrow, maybe. Would you like to have
him?'

A warm pressure of the hand was Maude's reply, as the moisture gathered
upon her heavy eyelashes. But Jerrie kissed it away, though her own hot
tears fell upon Maude's hair, which, however, was so thick that she did
not feel them; nor did she dream what it cost Jerrie to sit there and
tell her everything of Harold which she could think of, because she knew
that would please the sick girl better. Once she made Maude laugh, as
she took off little Billy, imitating his voice so perfectly that a
person outside would have said he was in the room. Jerrie's talent for
imitation and ventriloquism had not deserted her, although as she grew
older, she did not so often practice it as when a child; but she brought
it into full play now to amuse Maude, and imitated every individual of
whom she spoke, except Arthur. He was the one person whose peculiarities
she could not take off.

'I have been to Mr. Arthur's room,' she said, 'but it seems so desolate
without him. Do you hear from him often?'

'I have only had one letter, and then he was in Salt Lake City, at the
Continental, in a room which he said was big enough for three rooms, and
had not a single bad smell in it, except the curtains, which were new,
and in which he did detect a little odor.'

Here Maude laughed again, while there came into her face a faint color
and a look which made Jerrie's breath come quickly as, for the first
time, the thought flashed across her mind that if what she had been
foolish enough to dream of were true Maude was her cousin--her own flesh
and blood.

'Maude,' she said suddenly, with a strong desire to fold the frail
little body in her arms and tell her what she had thought.

But when Maude looked up inquiringly