Tracy Park Part 16

'Her father was a German, and probably they lived in Germany, but the mother was certainly French.'

His own knowledge of German was very limited, but he could speak it a little, and turning again to the child he managed to say:

'What is your name!'

'Der-ree,' was the reply, and Harold exclaimed:

'That's it; she means Jerry; that's short for the name on her clothes, which you said was p.r.o.nounced Jereen. I have christened her Jerry, and she is my little girl, ain't you, Jerry!'

'Yah--oui--'ess,' was the answer, and there was a gleam of triumph in the blue eyes which flashed up to Harold for approbation.

She had not, of course, understood a word he said, except, indeed her name; but the tone of his voice was interrogatory, and seemed to expect an affirmative answer, which she gave in three languages, emphasizing the ''ess' with a nod of her head, as if greatly pleased with herself.

'Bravo!' Harold shouted. 'She can say yes. I taught her, and I shall have her talking English in a few days as well as I do, shan't I, Jerry?'

'Yah--'ess,' was the reply.

Then Mr. St. Claire tried to question her further with regard to herself and her home, but his phraseology was probably at fault, for no satisfactory result was reached beyond the fact that her mother was dead, that her name was Jerry, or Derree, as she called it, and that she had been on a ship with Mah-nee, who did _so_--and she imitated perfectly the motions and contortions of one who is deathly sea-sick.

'I suppose she means her mother by Mah-nee,' said Mr. St. Claire; and when he asked her if it were not so, she answered 'yah,' and ''ess,' as she did to everything, adopting finally the latter word altogether because she saw it pleased Harold.

No matter what was the question put to her, her reply was ''ess,' which she repeated quickly, with a prolonged sound on the 's.'

When at last Mr. St. Claire took his leave, it was with a strange feeling of interest for the child, whose antecedents must always be shrouded in mystery, and whose future he could not predict.

It seemed impossible for Mrs. Crawford to keep her, poor as she was, and as he had no idea that the Tracys would take her, there was no alternative but the poor-house, unless he took her himself and brought her up with his own little five-year-old Nina. He would wait until after the funeral and see, he decided, as he went back to his home at Brier Hill, where his children, d.i.c.k and Nina, were eager to hear all he had to tell them of the poor little girl whose mother had been frozen to death.

The next morning the sleigh from Tracy Park stopped before the cottage door, and Frank, who had been to meet the coroner, alighted from it. He was pale and haggard as he entered the room where Jerry was playing on the floor with Harold's Maltese kitten. As he came in she looked up at him, and, lifting her hand, swept the hair back from her forehead just as she had done the day before when Mr. St. Claire was there. The peculiar motion had struck the latter as something familiar, though he could not define it; but Frank did, or in his nervous condition he thought he did, and his knees shook so he could hardly stand as he talked with Mrs. Crawford and told her he had come for the child, who ought to be where her mother was until after the funeral.'

'Then she will come back again. You will not keep her. She is mine, ain't you, Jerry?' Harold exclaimed, eagerly; while Jerry, who, with a child's instinct scented danger from Harold's manner and a.s.sociated that danger with the strange man looking so curiously at her, sprang to her feet, which she stamped vigorously, while she cried, ''ess, 'ess, 'ess,'

with her face all in wrinkles, and her blue eyes anything but soft and sunny, as they usually were.

In this mood she was not much like Gretchen in the picture, but she was like some one else whom Frank had seen in excited moods, and he grew faint and sick as he watched her, and saw the varying expression of her face and eyes. The way she shook her head at him and flourished her hands was a way he had seen many times and remembered so well, and he felt as if his heart would leap from his throat as he tried to speak to her. A turn of the head, a gesture of the hands, a curve of the eyelashes, a tone in the voice, seemed slight actions on which to base a certainty; but Frank did feel certain, and his brain reeled for a second as his thoughts leaped forward years and years until he was an old man, and he wondered if he could bear it and make no sign.

Then, just as he had decided that he could not, the tempter suggested a plan which seemed so feasible and fair that the future, with a secret to guard, did not look so formidable, and to himself he said:

'It is not likely I can ever be positive; and so long as there is a doubt, however small, it would be preposterous to give up what otherwise must come to my children, if not to me; but I will not wrong her more than I can help.'

'Come, little girl, go with me,' he said, in his kindest tones, as he advanced toward her, while Harold went for her cloak and hood.

Jerry knew then that she was expected to go with the stranger, and without Harold, and resisted with all her might. Standing behind him, as if safe there, and clinging to his coat, she sobbed piteously, intermingling her sobs with 'Ess, 'ess, 'ess,' the only English word she knew, and which she seemed to think would avail in every emergency.

And it did help her now, for Harold pleaded that he might go, too, and when Jerry saw him with his coat and hat, and understood that he was to be her escort, she ceased to sob, and allowing herself to be made ready, was soon in the sleigh, and on her way to Tracy Park.

CHAPTER XV.

JERRY AT THE PARK.

And so this is the poor little girl. We'll take her right to the kitchen, where she can get warm,' Mrs. Tracy said, as she met her husband in the hall, with Harold and the mite of a creature wrapped in the foreign looking cloak and hood.

'No, Dolly!' and Frank spoke very decidedly, as Harold was turning in the direction of the kitchen. 'She is going to the nursery, with the other children, and when they have their dinner she shall have hers with them.'

'Ess, 'ess, 'ess,' Jerry said, as if she comprehended that there was a difference of opinion between the man and woman, and that she was on the affirmative side.

'Take her to the nursery! Oh, Frank! she may have something about her which the children will catch,' Mrs. Tracy said, blocking the way as she spoke.

But Jerry, who through the half-open door had caught sight of the pretty sitting-room, with its warm carpet and curtains, and cheerful fire, shook her head defiantly at the lady, and brushing past her, went boldly into the room, whose brightness had attracted her.

Marching up to the fire, she stood upon the rug and looked about her with evident satisfaction; then glancing at the three who were watching her, she nodded complacently, and said, ''ess, 'ess, 'ess,' while she held her little cold hands to the fire.

'Acts as if she belonged here, doesn't she?' Frank said to his wife, who did not reply, so intent was she upon watching the strange child, who deliberately took off her cloak and hood and tossing them upon the floor, drew a small low chair to the fire, and climbing into it, sat down as composedly as if she were mistress there instead of an intruder.

Once she swept the hair back from her forehead with the motion Frank knew so well, and then the lump came into his throat again, and he steadied himself against the mantel, while he looked curiously at the young girl, making herself so much at home and seeming so well pleased with her surroundings.

'Take her to the nursery now. I must see to that coroner,' he said to his wife, adding: 'Harold must go too, or there will be the Old Harry to pay.'

''Ess, 'ess,' came decidedly from the child, who went willingly with Harold, and was soon ushered into the large upper room, which was used as both nursery and school-room, for Mrs. Tracy could not allow her two sons, Tom and Jack, to come in contact with the boys at school; so she kept a governess, a middle-aged spinster, who, glad of a home, and the rather liberal compensation, sat all day in the nursery and bore patiently with Tom's freaks and Jack's dullness: to say nothing of the trouble it was to have the three-year-old Maude toddling about and interfering with everything.

'Hallo!' Tom cried, as his mother came in, followed by Harold and Jerry.

'Hallo, what's up?' And throwing aside the slate on which he had been trying to master the difficulties of a sum in long division, he went toward them, and said: 'Has the coroner come, and can't I go and see the inquest? You said maybe I could if I behaved, and I do, don't I, Miss Howard?'

Just then he caught sight of Jerry, and stopping short, exclaimed:

'By Jingo! ain't she pretty! I mean to kiss her.'

And he made a movement toward the little face, which looked up so shyly at him. But his mother caught his arm and held him back, as she said, sharply:

'Don't touch her, there is no tolling what you may catch. I wanted her to go to the kitchen, the proper place for her, but your father insisted that she should be brought here. I hope, Miss Howard, you will see that she does not go near the children.'

'Yes, Madam,' Miss Howard replied, 'but I am sure there can be no danger. She looks as clean and sweet as a rose.'

Miss Howard was fond of children, and she held out her hand to the little girl, who seemed to have a most wonderful faculty for discriminating between friends and enemies, and who went to her readily, and leaning against her arm, looked curiously at the group of children--at Tom, and Jack, and Maude, the latter of whom wished to go to her, but was restrained by the nurse. The moment the door closed on Mrs. Tracy, Tom walked up to the child, and said:

'I shall kiss her now, anyhow.'

But Jerry hid her face, and could not be induced to look up until he had moved away from her.

'Catty as well as pretty,' Tom said. 'I wonder who she is anyway, and how she will like the poor-house?'

'Who said she was going to the poor-house?' Harold exclaimed indignantly.

'Mother said so,' Tom replied. 'I heard her talking to the cook. Where would she go if she did not go to the poor-house? Who would take care of her?'

'I!' Harold answered, and to Miss Howard he seemed to grow older a dozen years, as he stood there with his arms folded and the light of a brave manhood in his brown eyes. 'I shall take care of her. She will live with grandmother and me. I found her, and she is mine.'