Jerrie was very tired when she went at last to bed, but the dreamless sleep which came upon her, and which lasted until a late hour in the morning, did her good, and probably saved her from a relapse, which might have proved fatal. Still she was very pale and weak when she went down stairs about nine o'clock and found Tom waiting for her. He had been up since sunrise, strolling through the park, with a troubled, sorry look on his face for he was extremely sorry for himself, though very glad for Jerrie, whose sworn ally he was and would be to the end. In a way he had tried to comfort his mother by telling her that neither his uncle nor Jerrie would be unjust to her, if she'd only behave herself, and treat the latter as she ought, and not keep up such a high and mighty and injured air, as if Jerrie had done something wrong in finding out who she was.

But Dolly would not be comforted, and her face wore a sullen, defiant expression, as she moved about the handsome house where she had queened it so long that she really looked upon it as her own, resenting bitterly the thought that another was to be mistress there. She had talked with her husband, and made him tell her exactly how much he was worth in his own right, and when he told her how little it was, she had exclaimed, angrily:

'We are beggars, and may as well go back to Langley and sell codfish again.'

She had seen Tom that morning, and when to her question, 'Why are you up so early?' he replied, 'To attend to Jerrie's affairs,' she tossed her head scornfully, and said: 'Before I'd crawl after any girl, much less Jerrie Crawford! You'd better be attending to your own sister. She's worse this morning, and looks as if she might die any minute.'

Then Tom went to Maude, who, since the shock of the night before, had lain as if she were dead, except for her eyes, in which there was a new and wondrous light, and which looked up lovingly at Tom as he came in and kissed her, a most unusual thing for him to do.

'Dear Tom,' she whispered, 'come closer to me,' and as he bent down to her, she continued, 'is every thing Jerrie's?'

'Yes, or will be. She is Uncle Arthur's daughter.'

'Shall we be very poor?'

'Yes, poor as a church mouse.'

Then there was a pause, and when Maude spoke again she said slowly: