know."

"Yes," I said, "I know. But don't be sad to-night. Things smell sweet,
and there's a moon in the sky."

She laughed--merry in an instant. "Jenny says we're going to do such
things! As soon as she's settled down again, you know." She paused for a
moment. "Did she love my father very much?"

"Yes, I think she did," I answered, "and I think she loves you."

"To me she's just--everything." Her eyes grew mirthful and adventurous;
she gave a little laugh as she added, "And she says she'll find me a
fairy prince!" At once she was looking to see how I liked this, not with
the anxiety which awaited Jenny's approval, but none the less with an
evident desire for mine.

"That's only right," I answered, laughing. "But she needn't hurry, need
she? You'll be happy here for a bit longer?"

"Happy here? I should think so!" she cried. "Ah, there's Jenny looking
for me!" In an instant she was gone; the next her arm was through
Jenny's, and she was talking merrily.

I became aware of Chat's presence. She came toward me in her faded, far
from sumptuous, gentility. She had a little gush for me. "So happy it
all seems again, Mr. Austin!" she said.

"We seem to be starting again very well indeed," I assented.

"Dear Jenny has behaved so splendidly all through," Chat proceeded. "How
did they dare to be so malicious about her? But I've known her from a
girl. I always trusted her. Why, I may say I did a good deal to form
her!"

A vivid--and highly inopportune--picture came back into my mind, a
picture dating from the night of Jenny's flight--of Chat rocking her
helpless old body to and fro, and saying through her sobs, "I tried, I
tried, I tried!" What had Chat meant that she tried to do? To keep Jenny
out of mischief? Hardly that. To save her from the danger of it had been
the object. As for forming her--Chat had made other confessions about
that.

However--as things stood--Chat had always trusted Jenny. It was
impossible to say how far--at this moment--Jenny had trusted Chat. Not
very far, I think. Jenny probably had said nothing which could make it
harder for Chat to say what she would want to say; both reticence and
revelation would have been bent to that object--and Jenny was an artist
in the use of each of these expedients. Doubtless Chat had been given
her cue. Nevertheless, there was something unusual in her air--something
very friendly, confidential, yet rather furtive, as she drew a little
closer to me.

"But the