Jerrie had been down stairs several times, but was in her room when the
basket was brought to her. Raising the paper, she was about to throw it
on the floor, when her eye caught the words, 'The Tracy Diamonds,' and
with bloodless lips and wildly beating heart she read the article
through, understanding the situation perfectly, and resolving at once
how to act. It seemed to her that she was lifted above and out of
herself, she felt so strong, and light, and well, as she threw on her
bonnet and shawl, and taking the leather bag in her hand, hurried down
stairs in quest of Mrs. Crawford.
'Grandma!' she exclaimed, 'why haven't you told me about Harold, and the
suspicion resting on him, and why did you let him go until I was better,
and what are the people saying? Tell me everything.'
Jerrie would not be put off, and Mrs. Crawford told her everything she
knew, and that she herself had added to the mystery by the strange
things she had said in her delirium about the diamonds, which she
insisted were hers.
'And they are mine!' Jerrie said, while Mrs. Crawford looked at her in
alarm, for her madness had returned.
'Where are you going?' she gasped, as Jerrie turned toward the door.
'To Tracy Park, to claim my own and clear Harold!' was the reply.
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