'Can they get out? And
will they sting?'
Arthur burst into a merry laugh, the first he had known since he came
back to Shannondale. Jerry was doing him good. There was something very
soothing in the touch of the little warm hands he held in his, and
something puzzling and fascinating, too, in the face of the child. He
did not think of a likeness to any one; he only knew that he felt drawn
toward her in a most unaccountable manner, and found himself wondering
greatly who she was.
'Harold told me there were pictures and marble people up here with
nothing on, and everything, and that's why I comed--that and to bring
you some cherries. I like pictures. Can I see them?' Jerry said.
'Yes, you shall see them,' Arthur replied; and he led her into the room
where Gretchen's picture looked at them from the window.
'Oh, my!' Jerry exclaimed, with bated breath, 'Ain't she lovely! Is she
God's sister?' and folding her hands together, she stood before the
picture as reverently as a devout Catholic stands before a Madonna.
It was some time since Jerry had spoken a word of German, but as she
stood before Gretchen's picture old memories seemed to revive, and with
them the German word for _pretty_, which she involuntarily spoke aloud.
Low as was the utterance, it caught Arthur's ear, and grasping her
shoulder, he said:
'What was that? What did you say, and where did you learn it?'
His manner frightened her; perhaps the bumble-bees were coming out, and
she drew back from him, forgetting entirely what she had said.
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