In January my baby was born, and I had her christened Jerrine, by Mr.Eaton.You will find it among the papers.

Then, how I longed for him, and waited, and watched; but he never came, and I knew he had forgotten; but I did not doubt his love, or that he would one day come back; and I tried to improve myself and learn what was in books, so I could mate with him better when he came home, which he never did; and the years went on, and my little Jerrine grew more lovely every day.

She is standing by me now, and says, "Are you writing to him ?" 'Darling Jerrie, you will be kind to her, won't you, for his sake, and for me, too, who will be dead when you yet this ?' Jerrie was sobbing now, and Maude's arm was around her neck, while Frank had walked to a window, and, like his wife, was looking out upon the lawn, which he did not see for the tears which filled his eyes.
'When the money stopped,' the letter went on, 'we grew so poor, Jerrie and I and Nannine--that is the French woman who lives with me and whom Jerrie calls Mah-nee.

She will bring my child to you when I am dead; and oh, be kind to her, for a truer, more faithful woman never lived.

She is such a comfort to me, except when she scolds about Arthur and calls him a _bete noire_, which he is not, as you will see.