ck. "The place, the life,
the friends, the happiness, and--you--all!"

It might have been noted that the "all" was added after a moment's
pause, as if it were an afterthought.

"Dear Hilda!" said Bell, softly. "We all owe her a very great deal."

"If it had not been for Hildegarde Grahame," said Jack, "I should have
grown up a savage."

"Oh! no, you would not, Jack."

"Yes, I should, Bell. When I first came to Roseholme, I was just at the
critical time. I adored my father, who was an angel,--too much of one to
understand a mere human boy. I came to please him, and at first I didn't
get hold of Uncle Tom at all, nor he of me. He thought me an ass,--well,
he was right enough there,--and I thought him a bear and a brute. I was
on the point of running away and starting out on my own account, my
fiddle and I against the world, when I met Hilda, and she changed life
from an enemy into a friend."

Bell was silent for a moment; then, "I have often wondered--" she said,
and broke off short.

"So have I!" said Jack. "I don't know now why I didn't. Yes, I do, too."

"Why?" asked Bell, her eyes on her mixing-bowl.

"It's hard to put it into words," said Jack, with a queer little laugh.
"I suppose I felt that I never should have had a chance; but--but yet, I
am not sure that I should not have tried my luck, even then, if--if
something else had not happened to me."

Bell asked no more questions: the johnny-cake seemed to be at a critical
point; she stirred assiduously, and Jack, turning to look at her, could
see only the tip of a very rosy little ear under the brown, clustering
hair.

There was another silence, broken only by the singing of the teakettle
and the soft, thick "hub-bubble" of the boiling porridge.

"Bell!" said Jack, presently.

"Yes, Jack."

"I had another letter last night, that I haven't told you about yet."

"From Hilda?"

"No. From the manager of the Arion Quartette. They want me to go on a
tour with them in the autumn, before the Conservatory opens. It's a
great chance, and they offer me twice what I am worth."

"Oh, Jack!" cried Bell, turning her face, shining with pleasure, full on
him. "How glorious! how perfectly glorious! Oh! this is great news
indeed."

"There is only one difficulty," said Jack. "I have to provide my own
accompanist."

"But you can easily do that!" said Bell.

"Can I?" cried Jack Ferrers, dropping the porridge spoon and coming
forward, his two hands held out, his b