rsue the search for this Craig Winton. The Boston men
had reported that their search had led them to a blank wall and that
there was little use spending more money on it. But in spite of this,
Uncle Johnny had persisted in going ahead on some clue of his own and
wasting precious time away from Barbara Lee. Both Isobel and Gyp, from
thinking that no woman in the world was good enough for Uncle Johnny,
had now veered around to the happy conviction that heaven had patterned
Barbara Lee especially for Uncle Johnny's pleasure. They beamed upon the
engagement with such approval that even Uncle Johnny, head over heels in
love as he was, grew a little embarrassed by their enthusiasm. Gyp also
became reconciled to the school library as a setting for the proposal
and declared that, thereafter, the library at Highacres would be
enshrined in her heart as something other than a room to "make one's
head ache." But both girls were disgusted that Uncle Johnny could
cheerfully leave the lady of his choice and go off on a search that
appeared so useless! It was contrary to all their rules of romance.

Something in Uncle Johnny's face and his unexpected appearance drew an
exclamation from each of the girls. Almost in the same voice, with no
more greeting than to vigorously grasp him by shoulder and arm, they
cried: "Did you find her? Have you come to stay?"

He hesitated just a moment and glanced questioningly at Mrs. Travis.
Then for the first time the girls noticed that Mrs. Travis was very
pale, that her eyes burned dark against the whiteness of her skin as
though she had been racked by a great agitation and her hands clasped
tightly the back of a chair. She nodded to John Westley.

"Yes, my search is ended. You see I had the right clue--though it was
only the mention of a pair of eyes. Do you remember in Uncle Peter's
letter about Craig Winton's eyes? 'They were glowing like they were
lighted within.' Well, have you ever seen a pair of eyes like that? I
have--only where Craig Winton's were sad with disappointment, these
others glow from the pure joy of being alive----"

"_Jerry?_" interrupted Gyp, in a queer, tangled voice.

"Yes--Jerauld."

"_Oh-h!_"

The girls stared at Jerry and Jerry stared at John Westley. Was he just
joking? How _could_ it be? She turned to her mother. Her mother nodded
again.

"Yes, dear, you are Jerauld Winton. But--we gave you your stepfather's
name--he was so good to us!"

In that moment of unutte