"And Miss Thorley, too?" demanded Mary Rose, jealously afraid that Miss Thorley might feel hurt if she were excluded from Mr. Jerry's affections. "She's the enchanted princess, you know," she reminded him in a whisper. "You must love her."
Mr. Jerry was so silent that Mary Rose pinched his arm.
"Sure, I love Miss Thorley," he said then, very hurriedly.
"And she loves you, don't you, Miss Thorley?" Mary Rose pinched Miss Thorley's arm to remind her that something was expected of her, also.
There was a longer pause. Mary Rose had to pinch Miss Thorley's arm a second time and Mr. Jerry, himself, had to ask her in a funny shaky sort of a voice:
"Do you, Bess? Do you?"
Miss Thorley tried to frown and look away but she was not able to take her eyes from the two faces, the man's and the little girl's, which looked at her with such imploring eagerness. And what she saw in those two faces made her heart give a great throb. In a flash she knew, and knew beyond a doubt, that at last she could answer the question that had been tormenting her for over half a year. Long, long before that she had learned that everything one has in this world must be paid for and the question that had caused her to lose her red "corpuskles" had been whether she was willing to pay the price or whether she would go without the love and happiness and companionship that were offered to her.
She flushed adorably as she met Mr. Jerry's anxious eyes. "I—I don't want to," she said with rueful honesty and then the words came in a hurried rush, "But I'm—I'm afraid I do! It's all your fault, Mary Rose." And she hid her pink cheeks in Mary Rose's yellow hair.
"My fault!" Mary Rose was surprised and puzzled and a wee bit hurt. She did not understand how she could be to blame.
But Mr. Jerry understood and with a quick exclamation he stopped the car. And there, behind a great clump of tall lilac bushes, he put his arms around them both. He kissed them both, too, Mary Rose first and hurriedly and then Miss Thorley, second and lingeringly.