ant. "They couldn't have such pictures of green and gold
out West as we see framed in here by the lilacs. You always have been a
determined little girl, so you will have your own way now, I suppose. We
can try it, anyhow, for a while. And if you find your way a rocky road
you must come back to 'Eden.' When your new playthings fail, you can
play with the old ones. But I really love your spirit of self-reliance.
I don't want you ever to be dependent. I don't want any other Jerry than
I have always known. And I want to work hard and make my little talent
pay me big, and make you proud of me."

"We are living a real romance, Gene. And we'll be true to our word to
make the best of ourselves and not let Aunt Jerry frighten us into
changing our plans, will we, Gene? My father's wish for me was that I
should not always be a spender of other folks's incomes, but that I
would find out what it means to live my own life. I never knew that
until last week. Everything seems changed for me since Uncle Cornie
died. Isn't it strange how suddenly we drop off one life and take up
another?" Jerry's eyes were on the deepening gold of the sunset sky.

"Yes, we have been two idlers. I'm glad to quit the job. But, somehow,
for you I could wish that you would stay here, if you were only
satisfied to do it," Eugene replied.

"I don't wish it." Jerry spoke decisively. "I couldn't be happy, now
I've this splendid Kansas thing to think about. Let's go and tell Aunt
Jerry and have it out with her."

"And if she says no?" the young man queried.

Jerry Swaim paused in the doorway and looked straight into Eugene
Wellington's face, without saying a word.

"Geraldine Swaim, there was a big mistake made in your baptismal
ceremony. You should have been christened 'The Sphinx.' Some day I'll
make a canvas of the Egyptian product and put your face on it. After
all, _are_ you really in earnest about this Sage Brush Valley New Eden?
It is so lovely here, I want you to stay here."

Again Jerry looked at him without speaking, and that faint line of
indecision that scarcely hinted at its own existence fixed itself in the
substratum of her memory.

Mrs. Darby met the young people in the parlor, where only a few nights
ago the three had watched the summer storm, not knowing that it was
beating down on the unconscious form of Cornelius Darby. Mrs. Darby felt
sure that the young people would be coming to her to-night. Well--the
end of her plan was in sight n