"But I cannot leave grandma," Jerrie said.
"Let her come, too," Arthur replied. "There's room for her."
"No," Jerrie persisted; "that would not be best. Grandma could not live with Mrs. Tracy."
"Then let Dolly go at once. I'll give the order now," and Arthur put out his hand to the bell-cord.
But Jerrie stopped him instantly, saying to him:
"Remember Maude. While she lives her mother must stay here."
"Yes, I forgot Maude. I have not seen her yet," Arthur replied, subdued at once, and willing that Jerrie should take the jewels to Dolly, who deserved but little forbearance from her.
Up to the very last Mrs. Tracy had, unconsciously perhaps, clung to a shadowy hope that Arthur might repudiate his daughter and call it a trumped-up affair; but when she heard how joyfully he had acknowledged and claimed her, she lost all hope, and her face wore a gloomy expression when Jerrie entered her room, and told her in a few words that her own diamonds had been found, and where they had been secreted, and that she had come to return them.
"Then your father was the thief," Dolly said, with that rasping, aggravating tone so hard to hear unmoved.
"Call him what you please. A crazy man is not responsible for his acts," Jerrie answered calmly, as she walked from the room, leaving Dolly to her own morbid and angry thoughts.