s Jerry is waiting for me to ask her to come back.
She must be through with her romantic fling by this time, and about out
of money, too. So now's the time to act and settle matters, as I say,
once for all. Jerry _must come home_."

"Amen, and amen," Eugene agreed, fervently.

"And if she won't come home herself, she must be brought--to see things
as we do. _Must_, I say, Eugene."

"I'm glad she didn't say 'brought home' if she's going to send me after
her," the young man thought. The memory of having been sent after Jerry
in years gone by, and of coming back empty-handed, but full-hearted and
sore-headed, were still strong within him. "How shall we make her see?"
he inquired.

Mrs. Darby rocked vigorously for a few minutes. Then she brought her
chair to a dead stop and laid down the law without further shifting of
anchors.

"All my property, my real estate, country and city, my bank stocks, my
government bonds, my business investments--everything--is mine to keep
for my lifetime, and to pass by will to whomsoever I choose. Of course
it's only natural I should choose the only member of my family now
living to succeed to my possessions."

How the "my" sounded out as the woman talked of her god, to whose
service she was bound, but of whose blessings she understood so little!

Eugene sat waiting and thinking.

"Of course, whoever marries Jerry with my approval will come into a
fortune worth having."

"He certainly will," Eugene declared, fervently.

A clear vision of Jerry and June roses swept his soul with refreshing
sweetness, followed by the no less clear imagery of Uncle Cornie
stepping slowly but persistently at the wrong moment after his wabbling
discus. He looked away down the lilac-walk, unconsciously expecting the
familiar, silent, uninteresting face and figure to come again to view.
To the artist spirit in him the old man was there as real to vision as
he had been on that last--lost--June day.

"You are thinking of Jerry herself. I am thinking of her inheritance,
which is a deal more sensible, although Jerry is an unusually
interesting and surprising girl," the old woman was saying.

"Unusually," Eugene echoed. "And in case you do not make a will?"

The young man was still looking down the lilac-walk as he asked the
question, seemingly oblivious to the narrow eyes of Mrs. Darby
scrutinizing his face.

"I have already made it. If things do not please me I shall change it. I
may do that half a doz