“Come here, Jan. I want to hold you!” cried Gwen, clutching her cousin with burning hands, and drawing her downward in a half-delirious grasp. “I won’t see, and that’s just it! O Jan, don’t you know, don’t you feel, what that means?”
“It isn’t going to be,” maintained Jan stoutly. “Yes, I know exactly what it means, but it won’t be so! If it were, you would be just the very heart of this whole family, and you could write the loveliest stories and poems, and everything like that! But, what is better, you could love them and they’d love you, until the whole house would be so much nicer—like ours, which you always said must be lovely, if it was poor. For love is best, of anything, isn’t it?”
“No, no,” moaned poor Gwen; “my eyes are.” But in spite of the tragedy hanging over her, Jan comforted her, and she presently fell asleep, her burning cheek pressed against Jan’s cool one, Jan’s firm hand stroking her tumbled hair, Jan’s strong young shoulders supporting her, and Jan’s warm young heart sustaining her by its courage and love.
CHAPTER XV
“ONE TOUCH TO HER HAND AND ONE WORD IN HER EAR”
“See here, Jan, it’s no good,” said Sydney, speaking so suddenly that Miss Lochinvar was startled.
“What isn’t any good?” she asked, giving a last twitch to Tommy Traddles’s red ribbon.
“Trying to earn money and go to school at the same time. I am not making a success of either, for I have only earned about four dollars and ninety-nine cents,” replied Sydney gloomily.
“Is the man getting impatient?” inquired Jan.
Sydney nodded with much emphasis. “Won’t wait,” he said laconically.