I will gladly give you and grandma every dollar I may ever have, and then I should not pay you.' 'There is nothing owing me,' Harold said, the pain in his heart and his fear of losing her growing lean as she talked.

'You have brought me nearly all the happiness I have ever known; for when I was a boy and every bone ached with the hard work I had to do--the thought that Jerry was waiting for me at home, that her face would greet me at the window, or in the door, made the labor light; and now that I am a man--' He paused a moment, and Jerrie's head dropped a little, for his voice was very low and soft, and she waited with a beating heart for him to go on.
'Now that I am a man, life would be nothing to me without you.' Was this a declaration of love?
It almost seemed so, and but for a thought of Maude, Jerry might have believed it was such, and lead him on to something more definite.

As it was, her heart gave a great bound of joy, which showed itself on her face as she replied: 'If I make your life happier, _I_ am glad; for never had a poor, unknown girl so good and true a brother as I.But come, I have kept you here too long, and grandma must be wondering where we are.' 'Yes, and supper will be spoiled,' Harold said, as he followed her to the door.

'We are to have it in the back porch, where it is so cool, and to have tea-cakes, with strawberries from our own vines, and cream from our own cow, or rather your cow.

Did I write you that she had a splendid calf, which we call Clover-top.
They had come back to commonplaces now, Jerrie's clairvoyant spell had passed and she was herself again, simple Jerrie Crawford, walking along the familiar path, and talking of the cow which Frank Tracy had given her when it was a little sickly calf, whose mother had died.