"What, Jerrie! You here?" he exclaimed, his face clearing, and the whole aspect of matters changing at once, as she arose to meet him.
With Jerrie there the place seemed different, and he did not feel as if he were lowering himself, as he sat down and joined in the dainty lunch which was brought up and served from Dresden china, and cut glass, and was as delicate and dainty in its way as anything he had ever found at the Brunswick or Delmonico's. Mrs. Peterkin prided herself upon her cuisine, which she superintended herself, and as Peterkin was something of an epicure and gourmand, the table was always supplied with every possible delicacy.
Tom enjoyed it all, and praised the chocolate, and the broiled chicken, and the jellies, and thought Ann Eliza not so very bad-looking in her blue satin wrapper, with the swan'-down trimmings, and made himself generally agreeable. Maude was better, he said, and he asked Jerrie to go home with him and see her. But Jerrie declined.
"I have a great deal of work to do yet," she said. "I must finish ironing those clothes you saw upon the line yesterday, and so I must be going."
Tom frowned at the mention of the clothes which Jerrie had washed; while Ann Eliza insisted that she should stay until the dog-cart, which had been sent to the station for Billy, came back, when Lewis would take her home, as it was too warm to walk. Jerrie did not mind the heat or the walk, but she felt morally sure that Tom meant to accompany her, and greatly preferred the dog-cart and Lewis to another tete-a-tete with him, for he did not act at all like a discarded lover, but rather as one who still hoped he had a chance. So she signified her intention to wait for the dog-cart, which soon came, with Billy in it, anxious when he heard of his sister's accident, delighted when he found Jerrie there, and persistent in saying that he and not Lewis would take her home.
"Well, if you will, you will," she said, laughingly; and bidding Ann Eliza good-by, and telling Tom to give her love to Maude and say to her that she did not believe she should be at the park that day, she had so much to do, she was soon in the dog-cart with Billy, whose face was radiant as he gathered up the reins and started down the turnpike, driving at what Jerrie thought a very slow pace, as she was anxious to get home.
Something of Billy's thoughts must have communicated itself to Jerrie, for she became nervous and ill at ease and talked rapidly of things in which she had not the slightest interest.
"What of the lawsuit?" she asked. "Are you likely to settle it?"
"No-no," Billy answered, hurriedly. "It will h-have to co-come into co-court in a f-few days, and I am aw-awful sorry. I wa-wanted father to p-pay what they demanded, but he won't. Hal is subpœnaed on the other side, as he was in our office, and is supposed to know something about it; b-but I ho-hope he won't da-damage us m-much, as father would n-never forgive him if he went against us."
"But he must tell the truth, no matter who is damaged," Jerrie said.