had made him on
the car. 'When I saw how sick Jerrie was, I made up my mind not to
accept it, although I need the money badly. But now, if Jerrie gets no
worse, I shall start for Tacoma in a few days and shall find your uncle
Arthur, if he is to be found.'

It was growing dark when the two young men finally emerged from the
house and stood for a moment outside, while Harold inquired for Maude.

'She is not very well, that's a fact,' Tom said, gloomily; 'and no
wonder, when mother keeps her cooped up in one room, without enough
fresh air, and lets nobody see her except the family and the doctor, for
fear they will excite her. She knows nothing about the diamonds, nor
that Jerrie is sick. I did tell her, though, that you had come home;
and, by Jove! I pretty near forgot it. She wants to see you bad; but,
Lord! mother won't let you in. No use to try. She's like a she-wolf
guarding its cub. Good-night.'

And Tom walked away, while Harold went back to the cottage, where he
found Jerrie sleeping very quietly, with a look on her face so like that
it had worn in her babyhood, when he called her his little girl, that he
involuntarily stooped down and kissed it as one would kiss a beautiful
baby.

The next morning Jerrie was very restless, and talked wildly of the
Tramp House and the diamonds, insisting that they were hers and must be
brought to her.

'Why did you tell her about them?' Mrs. Crawford asked, reproachfully.

But Harold did not reply, his mind was so torn with distracting doubts
as to whether he ought to take the western trip or not.

If he went, he must go at once, and to leave Jerrie in her present state
seemed impossible. He would consult the physician first, and Judge St.
Claire next. The doctor gave it as his opinion that Jerrie was in no
danger, if she were only kept quiet. She had taken a severe cold and
overtaxed her strength, while most likely she had inherited from some
one a tendency to be flighty when anything was the matter, and he
thought Harold might venture to leave her.

'Yes, I'd go if I were you,' he added, looking intently at the young
man; for, like Billy, he too thought it might be pleasanter for him to
be out of the way for a time, although he did not say so.

And this was the view the judge took of it, after a few moments'
conversation. His first question had been:

'Well, my boy, can you tell me now who gave them to you?'

'No, I can't,' was Harold's reply; and then, acting upon