Frank Tracy's face was very pale
and stern as he held little Jerry in his arms during the committal of
the body to the grave, and then bade her take one last look at the box
which held her mother. But Jerry, who was growing cold and tired, began
to cry, and so Frank took her back to the sleigh, which was driven to
the cottage in the lane. Here she felt at home, and drawing to the fire
the low rocking chair she had appropriated to herself, was soon
supremely happy devouring the ginger cookie which Mrs. Crawford had
given her, and in trying to pronounce English words under Harold's
teaching.
While the children were thus employed, Mr. Tracy was divulging to Mrs.
Crawford the object of his visit. He could hardly explain, he said, why
he was so deeply interested in the child, except it were that her mother
had died on his premises and she seemed to be thrown upon his care.
'I cannot see her go to the poor-house,' he continued, with a trembling
in his voice which made Mrs. Crawford wonder a little, as she had never
credited him with much sympathy for anything outside his own family. 'I
cannot see her go to the poor-house, and I cannot well take her into my
family, as we have three children of our own. But I have made up my mind
to care for her, and I have come to ask if, for a compensation, you will
keep her here?'
'Yes, grandma--say yes!' Harold cried; while Jerry, with her mouth full
of cookie, repeated, 'ay 'ess.
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