s which she flashed upon
him, he read her answer. 'Like it! Oh, Harold, it is perfect! I never
saw a room I liked better. But why did you do it? Was it because of that
foolish speech of mine about knocking my brains out, the ceiling was so
low?'

'Not at all,' Harold replied. 'I had the idea in my head long before you
wrote that to me, but could not quite see my way clear until last
spring. I have seen Nina's room and Maude's, and have heard that Ann
Eliza Peterkin's was finer than the Queen's at Windsor, and I did not
like to think of you in the cooped up place this was, with the slanting
roof and low windows. I am glad you like it.'

And then, knowing that she would never let him rest until he had done
so, he told her all the ways and means by which he had been able to
accomplish it, except indeed, his own self-denials and sacrifices of
pride, and even comfort. But this she understood, and noticed again more
carefully the shabby coat, and pants, and shoes, and the calloused
hands, which lay upon his knees as he talked, and which she wished so
much to take in hers and kiss and pity, for the hard work they had done
for her. But this would have been 'throwing herself at his head.'

She was constantly thinking of Arthur's words, and so she only cried the
more, as she told Harold how much she thanked him, and never could repay
him for what he had done for her.

'But it was a pleasure, Jerrie,' he said.' I never enjoyed anything in
my life as I have working in this room, with Maude to help me. She was
here nearly every day, and by her courage and enthusiasm kept me up to
fever heat. She puttied up the nail-holes and painted your
dressing-room, and would have helped shingle the roof if I had permitted
it. She gave the chair you sit in, and the table in the window. She
would do that and I let her; but when Mr. Arthur offered his assistance,
and the other Mr. Tracy, I refused, for I wanted it all my own, for
you.'

He was speaking rapidly and excitedly, and had Jerrie looked she would
have seen in his face all she was to him; but she did not look up, and
at mention of Maude a cloud fell suddenly upon her. But she would not
let it remain; she would be happy and make Harold so, too. So she told
him again of her delight, and what a joyous coming home it was.

She had not yet seen Arthur's card, and photograph, and note; but Harold
called her attention to them; and taking up the latter, she opened it,
while her heart gave a