CHAPTER XXXVIII.
AT LE BATEAU.
Harold got his own breakfast the next morning, and was off for his work just as the sun looked into the windows of the room where Jerrie lay in a deep slumber.

She had been awake a long time the previous night, thinking over the incidents of a day which had been the most eventful one of her life, but had fallen asleep at last, and dreamed that she had found the low room far away in Wiesbaden, with the wall adorned with the picture of a young girl knitting in the sunshine, and the stranger watching her from a distance.
It was late when she awoke, and Peterkin's clock was striking eight when she went down to the kitchen, where she found Mrs.Crawford sewing, and a most dainty breakfast waiting for her on a little round table near an open window shaded with the hop-vines.

There was a fresh egg for her, with English buns, and strawberries and cream, and chocolate served in a pretty cup which she had never seen before, while near her plate was lying a bunch of roses, and on them a strip of paper, on which Harold had written: "The top of the mornin' to ye, Jerrie.

I'd like to stay and see you, but if I work very hard to-day, I hope to finish the job on Monday and get my fifteen dollars.

That's a pile of money to earn in three days, isn't it?
I hope you enjoyed the garden-party.