Why, everybody is glad for you, Jerrie, and nobody seems to think how mean it is for us; but I'm not going to whine.
I'm glad it's you, and so is Maude, and she wants to see you.

I believe she's going to die, and--and--Jerrie--' Something choked Tom for a moment, then he went on: 'If Uncle Arthur should get high, and order us out at once, as father seems to think he will, you'll--you'll--let us stay while Maude lives, won't you ?' 'Tom,' Jerrie said, reproachfully, 'What do you take me for, and why does your father think his brother will order him out ?' 'I don't know,' Tom replied, 'but he seems awfully afraid to meet him.
Mother says he was up all night walking the floor and talking to himself, and yet he says he is glad, and he is coming this morning to see you and talk it over.

I believe I hear him now speaking to Mrs.
Crawford.

Yes, 'tis he; so I guess I'll go; and when I hear from my telegram I'll let you know.

Good-bye.' A moment after Tom left the room his father entered it, looking haggard and old, and frightened, too, it seemed to Jerrie, as she went forward to meet him with a cheery 'good-morning, Uncle Frank.' It was the first time she had addressed him by that name, and her smile was so bright and her manner so cordial that for an instant the cloud lifted from his face, but soon came back darker than ever as he declined the seat she offered him and stood tremblingly before her.
Frank had not slept a wink the previous night, nor had he been in bed, but had walked his room until his wife said to him angrily: 'I thought you were glad; seems to me you don't act like it; but for pity's sake stop walking, or go somewhere else do it and not keep me awake.' Then he went into the hall outside, and there he walked the livelong night, trying to think what he should say to Jerrie, and wondering what she would say to him, for he meant to tell her everything.