Then he questioned her of the park house and of Arthur; asking if the bees were often in his head now, or had she driven them out.
'No, I guess I haven't.

They were awful yesterday and to-day,' Jerry replied.

'He was talking of Gretchen all the time.

I wonder who she was.
Sometimes I look at her until it seems to me I have seen her or something like her, a paler face with sadder eyes.

How he must have loved her, better than you or I could ever love anybody; don't you think so ?' Harold hesitated a moment, and then replied: 'I don't know, but it seems to me I love you as much as a man could ever love another.' 'Phoo! Of course you do; but that's boy love; that isn't like when you are old enough to have a beau!' and Jerry laughed merrily, as she sprang up, and, taking Harold's rake, began to toss the hay about rapidly, bidding him sit still and see how fast she could work in his place.
Harold was very tired, and his head was aching badly, so for a time he sat still, watching the graceful movements of the beautiful child, who, it seemed to him, was slipping away from him.