This was his favorite expression; and when his house was done, and he stood, his broad, white shirt-front studded with diamonds and his coat thrown back to show them, surveying his possessions, he felt that he 'had licked the crowd.'

Jerrie felt so, too, as she followed the elegant Leo up the stairs and through the upper hall--handsomer, if possible than the lower one--to the pretty room where Ann Eliza lay, or rather reclined, with her lame foot on a cushion and her well one incased in a white embroidered silk stocking and blue satin slipper. She was dressed in a delicate blue satin wrapper, trimmed with swan's-down, and there were diamonds in her ears and on the little white hands which she stretched toward Jerrie as she came in.

'Oh, Jerrie,' she said, 'I am so glad to see you, for it is awfully lonesome here; and if one can be homesick at home, I am. I miss the girls and the lessons and the rules at Va.s.sar; much as I hated them when I was there; and just before you came in I wanted to cry. I guess my rooms are too big and have too much in them; any way, I have the feeling that I am visiting, and everything is strange and new. I do believe I liked the old room better, with its matting on the floor and the little mirror with the peac.o.c.k feathers ornamenting the top, and that painted plaster image of Samuel on the mantel. It is very ungrateful in me, I know, when father has done it mostly to please me. Do you believe--he has hunted me up a maid; Doris is her name; and what I am ever to do with her, or she with me, I am sure I don't know. Do you?'

Jerrie did not know either, but suggested that she might read to her while she was confined to her room. 'Yes, she might, perhaps, do that, if she can read,' Ann Eliza said. 'She certainly has pretentions enough about her to have written several treatises on scientific subjects. She was a year with Lady Augusta Hardy, in Ireland. Don't you remember the grand wedding father and mother attended in Allington two or three years ago, when Augusta Browne was married to an Irish lord, who had been bought by her money?--for of course he did not care much for her. Well, Doris went out with her as maid, and acts as if she, too, had married a peer. She came last night, and mamma and I are already as afraid of her as we can be, she is so fine and airy. She insisted upon dressing me this morning, and I felt all the while as if she were thinking how red and ugly my hair is, or counting the freckles on my face, and contrasting me with 'my Lady Augusta,' as she calls her. I wonder if she ever saw my lady's mother, Mrs. Rossiter-Browne, who told me once that I had a very _petty figger_, but she presumed it would _envelope_ as I grew older. But then people who live in gla.s.s houses shouldn't throw stones,' and Ann Eliza colored a little as she made this reference to her own father and mother, whose language was not much more correct than Mrs. Rossiter-Browne's.

For one brought up as she had been, Ann Eliza was a rather sensible girl, and although she attached a great deal of importance to money, she knew it was not everything, and that with her father's millions there was still a wide difference between him and the men to whose society he aspired; and knew, too, that although Jerrie had not a penny in the world, she was greatly her superior, and so considered by the world at large. She was very fond of Jerrie, who had often helped her with her lessons, and stood between her and the ridicule of her companions, and was never happier than when in her society. So now she made her bring an ottoman close beside her, and held her hand while she narrated in detail the events of the previous night, dwelling at length upon the fact that Tom had carried her in his arms, and wondering if he would call to inquire after her. Jerrie thought he would; and, as if in answer to the thought, Doris almost immediately appeared with his card. She _was_ very fine and very smart, and Jerrie herself felt awed by her dignity and manner as she delivered her message. 'The gentleman sends his compliments, and would like to know how you are this morning.'

'Jerrie, it's Tom! he has come!' Ann Eliza said, with joy in her voice.

'Surely I can receive him here, for this is my parlor.'

Jerrie thought she might, but the toss of the fine maid's head showed that she thought differently, as she left the room with her mistress'

message.

'Thunderation! I didn't want to see her. It's enough to have to call,'

was Tom's mental comment, when Doris told him he was to walk up stairs.

Indeed, he would not have come at all if Maude, to whom he related his adventure, had not insisted that he must.

'You needn't see her, of course; but you must go and inquire how she is.

According to your own statement you are to blame for her mishap; you dragged her along too fast.

Tom knew there was some truth in this, and so he went the more willingly; and, sending up his card, stood near the open door, ready to leave the moment Leo came down with the message he had received from Doris.

'I shall be cheek by jowl with these Peterkins, if I don't look out,' he thought, as he ascended the stairs to the hall, where Doris stood waiting to show him her mistress' room.

'What! Jerry! You here?' he exclaimed, his face clearing, and the whole aspect of matters changing at once, as she arose to meet him.

With Jerrie there the place seemed different, and he did not feel as if he were lowering himself, as he sat in the luxuriously furnished room, and joined in the dainty lunch which was brought up and served from Dresden china, and linen and cut gla.s.s, and was as delicate and dainty in its way as anything he had ever found at the Brunswick or Delmonico's. Mrs. Peterkin prided herself upon her _cuisine_, which she always superintended, and as Peterkin was something of an epicure and gourmand, the table was always supplied with every possible delicacy.

Tom enjoyed it all, and praised the chocolate, and the broiled chicken, and the jellies, and thought Ann Eliza not so very bad-looking in her blue satin wrapper, with the swan's-down tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, and made himself generally agreeable. Maude was better, he said, and could talk a little, and he asked Jerrie to go home with him and see her. But Jerrie declined.

'I have a great deal of work to do yet,' she said, 'I must iron all those clothes you saw upon the line yesterday, and so I must be going.'

Tom frowned at the mention of the clothes which Jerrie had washed; while Ann Eliza insisted that she should stay until the dog-cart, which had been sent to the station for Billy, came back, when Lewis would take her home, as it was too warm to walk. Jerrie did not mind the walk, but she felt morally sure that Tom meant to accompany her, and greatly preferred the dog-cart and Lewis to another _tete-a-tete_ with him, for he did not act at all like a discarded lover, but rather as one who still hoped he had a chance. So she signified her intention to wait for the dog-cart, which soon came, with Billy in it, anxious when he heard of his sister's accident, delighted when he found Jerrie there, and persistent in saying that he and not Lewis would take her home.

'Well, if you will, you will,' she said, laughingly; and bidding Ann Eliza good-bye, and telling Tom to give her love to Maude and say to her that she did not believe she should be at the park that day, she had so much to do, she was soon in the dog-cart with Billy, whose face was radiant as he gathered up the reins and started down the turnpike, driving at what Jerrie thought a very slow pace, as she was anxious to get home.

Something of Billy's thoughts must have communicated itself to Jerrie, for she became nervous and ill at ease and talked rapidly of things in which she had not the slightest interest.

'What of the lawsuit?' she asked. 'Are you likely to settle it?'

'N-no,' Billy answered, hurriedly. 'It will h-have to co-come into co-court in a f-few days, and I am aw-awful sorry. I wa-wanted father to p-pay what they demanded, but he won't. Hal is subpoenaed on the other side, as he was in our office, and is supposed to know something about it; b-but I ho-hope he won't da-damage us m-much, as father would n-never forgive him if he went against us.'

'But he must tell the truth, no matter who is damaged,' Jerrie said.

'Ye-yes' Billy replied, 'of co-course he must, b-but he needn't volunteer information.'

Jerry began to think that Billy had insisted upon coming with her for the sake of persuading her to caution Harold against saying too much when he was called to testify in the great lawsuit between Peterkin & Co., manufacturers in Shannondale, and Wilson & Co., manufacturers in Truesdale, an adjoining town; but she was undeceived when her companion turned suddenly off upon the river road, which would take them at least two miles out of their way.

'Why are you coming here!' Jerrie said, in real distress. 'It is ever so much farther, and I must get home. I have piles of work to do.'

'Co-confound the work,' Billy replied, very energetically for him, and reining his horse up under a wide spreading b.u.t.ternut tree, which grew upon the river bank, he sprang out and pretended to be busy with some part of the harness, while he astonished Jerrie by bursting out, without the least stammer, he was so earnest and so excited: 'I've something to say to you, Jerrie, and I may as well say it now as any time, and know the worst, or the best. I can't bear the suspense any longer, and I got out of the cart so as to stand where I could look you square in the face while I say it.'

And he was looking her square in the face while she grew hot and cold and experienced a sensation quite different from what she had when Tom and d.i.c.k made love to her. She had felt no fear of them, but she was afraid of this little man, who stood up so resolutely, with his tongue loosened, and asked her to be his wife, for that was what he did, making his wishes known in a very few words, and then waiting for her answer with his eyes fixed upon her face and a firm, set look about his mouth which puzzled and troubled her and made her uncertain as to how she was to deal with this third aspirant for her hand within twenty-four hours.

Billy had long had it in his mind that Jerry Crawford was the only girl in the world for him, but he might not have spoken quite; so soon had it not been for a conversation held with his father the previous night, when they were alone in a private room at the hotel in Shannondale, waiting for the train which Billy was to take, and which was half an hour late. Peterkin had exhausted himself in oaths and epithets with regard to the lawsuit and those who had brought it against him, and was regaling himself with a cigar and a gla.s.s of brandy and water, while Billy sat by the window watching for the train and wishing himself at Gra.s.sy Spring with Jerrie. Peterkin seldom drank to excess, but on this occasion he had taken a little too much. When under the influence of stimulants, he was either aggressive and quarrelsome, or jocose and talkative. The latter mood was on him now, and as he drank his brandy and water he held forth upon the subject of matrimony, wondering why his son did not marry, and saying it was quite time he did so and settled down.

'You can have the south wing,' he said, 'and if the rooms ain't up to snuff now, why, I'll make 'em so. The fact is, Bill, I've got money enough--three millions and better; but somehow it doesn't seem to do the thing. It doesn't fetch us to the quality and make us fust-cut. We need better blood than the Peterkins or the Moshers--need boostin', and you must get a wife to boost us. Have you ever thought on't?'

'Billy never had thought of it in that light,' he said, although he had thought of marrying, providing the girl would have him.

'Have you! Thunderation! A girl would be a fool who wouldn't marry three millions, with Lubber-too thrown in! Who is she?' Peterkin asked.

After a little hesitancy Billy replied:

'Jerrie Crawford.'

'Jerrie Crawford! I'll be dammed! Jerrie Crawford!' and Peterkin's big feet came down from the back of the chair on which they were resting, upsetting the chair and his brandy at the same time. 'Jerrie Crawford! I swow! A gal without a cent, or name either, though I used to have a sneakin' notion that I knew who she was, but I guess I didn't. 'Twould have come out afore now. What under heavens put her into your noddle?

She can't _boost_! and then she's head and shoulders taller than you be!

How you would look trottin' beside her! Jerrie Crawford! Wal, I swan!'

and Peterkin laughed until his big stomach shook like a bowl of jelly.

Billy was angry, and replied that he did not know what height had to do with it, or name either; and as for _boosting_, he wouldn't marry a king's daughter, if he did not love her; and for that matter Jerrie could boost, for she stood quite as high in town as any young lady.

Both Nina St. Claire and Maude Tracy worshipped her, while Mrs. Atherton paid her a great deal of attention; and so did the Mungers and Crosbys--enough sight more than they did to Ann Eliza with all her money.

'Mo-money isn't ev-everything.' Billy stammered, 'and Je-Jerrie would make a ve-very different pl-place of Le Bateau.'

'Mebby she would--mebby she would; but I'd never thought of her for you,' Peterkin said. 'I'd picked out some; big bug, who perhaps wouldn't wipe her shoes on you. Jerrie is handsome as blazes and no mistake, with a kinder up and comin' way about her which takes the folks. Yes, it keeps growin' on me, and I presume Arthur Tracy would give her away, which would be a feather in your cap; but lord! you'll have to git a pair of the highest heels you ever seen to come within ten foot on her.'

'She's only two inches t-taller than I am,' Billy said, and his father continued:

'Wall, if your heart's set on her go it, and quick, too, I'm goin' to have a smasher of a party in the fall, and Jerrie'll be just the one to draw, I can see her now, standin' there with the diamonds we'll give her sparklin' on her neck, and she lookin' like a queen, and the _sinecure_ of all eyes. But for thunder's sake don't marry the old woman and all.

Leave her to Harold, the sneak! I never did like him, and I'll be mad enough to kill him if he goes agin me in the suit, and I b'lieve he will.'

At this point Peterkin wandered off to the suit entirely and forgot Jerrie, who was to boost the house of Peterkin and make it 'fust-cut.'

But not so Billy, and all the way from Shannondale to Springfield he was thinking of Jerrie, and wondering if it were possible that she could ever look upon him with favor. Like Tom and d.i.c.k, he could scarcely remember the time when he did not think Jerrie the loveliest girl in the world, and ever since he had grown to manhood he had meditated making her his wife, but had feared what his father might say, as he knew how much importance he attached to money. Now however, his father had signified his a.s.sent, and, resolving to lose no time, Billy, on his return next day to Le Bateau, seized the opportunity to take Jerrie home, as the occasion for declaring his love, which he did in a manly, straightforward manner, never hinting at any advantage it would be to her to be the wife of a millionaire, or offering any inducement in any way except to say that he loved her and would devote his life to making her happy. Tom Tracy Jerrie had scorned, d.i.c.k St. Claire she had pitied, but this little man she felt like ridiculing.

'Oh, Billy,' she said, laughing merrily. 'You can't be in earnest. Why I'm head and shoulders taller than you are. I do believe I could pick you up and throw you into the river. Only think how we should look together; people would think you my little boy, and that I should not like. So, I can never be your wife.'

Nothing cuts a man like ridicule, and sensitive as he was with regard to his size, Billy felt it to his heart's core; and as he stood nervously playing with the reins and looking at Jerrie sitting there so tall and erect in all the brightness of her wonderful beauty, it flashed upon him how impossible it was for that glorious creature ever to be his wife, and what a fool he had made of himself.

'For-gi-give me, Jerrie,' he said, his chin beginning to quiver, and the great tears rolling down his face, 'I know you ca-can't, and I ou-oughtn't to have ask-asked it, bu-but I d-did love you so much, that I f-forgot how impossible it was f-for one like you to lo-love one li-like me. I am so small and insig-insignificant, and st-stutter so. I wish I was dead,' and laying his head upon the horse's neck, he sobbed aloud.

In an instant Jerrie was out of the dog-cart and at his side, talking to and trying to soothe him as she would a child.

'Oh, Billy, Billy,' she said. 'I am so sorry for you, and sorry I said those cruel words about your size. It was only in fun. Your size has nothing to do with my refusal. I know you have a big, kind heart, and next to Harold and d.i.c.k, and Mr. Arthur, I like you better than any man I ever knew; but I cannot be your wife. Don't cry, Billy; it hurts me so to see you and know that I have done it. Please stop, and take me home as quickly as possible.'