"So am I. Jolly good of you to say 'No.' All the luck in the world to you. Drop me a line or a picture-card from New York. Look you up on my way to Canada—if I ever really go. 'Bye!" The young man walked over to the door calling over his shoulder to Jerry: "See ye lurchin' about somewhere, old dear!" and he too went out of Peg's life.
She looked at Ethel and half entreated, half commanded Jerry:
"Plaze look out of the window for a minnit. I want to spake to me cousin." Jerry sauntered over to the window and stood looking at the gathering storm.
"Is that all over?" whispered Peg.
"Yes," replied Ethel, in a low tone.
"Ye'll never see him again?"
"Never. I'll write him that. What must you think of me?"
"I thought of you all last night," said Peg eagerly. "Ye seem like some one who's been lookin' for happiness in the dark with yer eyes shut. Open them wide, dear, and look at the beautiful things in the daylight and then you'll be happy."
Ethel shook her head sadly:
"I feel to-day that I'll never know happiness again."