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be produced very well. A steady job he'd have running the furnace of a

country house," he added meditatively.

Jennie did not notice the grimness of the jest. She was too busy thinking what a tangle she had made of her life. Gerhardt would not come now,

even if they had a lovely home to share with him. And yet he ought to be

with Vesta again. She would make him happy.

She remained lost in a sad abstraction, until Lester, following the drift of her thoughts, said: "I don't see how it can be arranged. Marriage

certificate blanks aren't easily procurable. It's bad business—a criminal offence to forge one, I believe. I wouldn't want to be mixed up in that sort of thing."

"Oh, I don't want you to do anything like that, Lester. I'm just sorry papa is so stubborn. When he gets a notion you can't change him."

"Suppose we wait until we get settled after moving," he suggested. "Then you can go to Cleveland and talk to him personally. You might be able to

persuade him." He liked her attitude toward her father. It was so decent that he rather wished he could help her carry out her scheme. While not

very interesting, Gerhardt was not objectionable to Lester, and if the old man wanted to do the odd jobs around a big place, why not?

CHAPTER XXXVII

The plan for a residence in Hyde Park was not long in taking shape. After several weeks had passed, and things had quieted down again, Lester

invited Jennie to go with him to South Hyde Park to look for a house. On

the first trip they found something which seemed to suit admirably—an

old-time home of eleven large rooms, set in a lawn fully two hundred feet square and shaded by trees which had been planted when the city was

young. It was ornate, homelike, peaceful. Jennie was fascinated by the

sense of space and country, although depressed by the reflection that she was not entering her new home under the right auspices. She had vaguely

hoped that in planning to go away she was bringing about a condition

under which Lester might have come after her and married her. Now all

that was over. She had promised to stay, and she would have to make the

best of it. She suggested that they would never know what to do with so

much room, but he waved that aside. "We will very likely have people in now and then," he said. "We can furnish it up anyhow, and see how it looks." He had the agent make out a five- year lease, with an option for renewal, and set at once the forces to work to put the establishment in

order.

The house was painted and decorated, the lawn put in order, and

everything done to give the place a trim and satisfactory appearance.

There was a large, comfortable library and sitting- room, a big dining-

room, a handsome reception hall, a parlour, a large kitchen, serving-room, and in fact, all the ground-floor essentials of a comfortable home. On the second floor were bedrooms, baths, and the maid's room. It was all very

comfortable and harmonious, and Jennie took an immense pride and

pleasure in getting things in order.

Immediately after moving in, Jennie, with Lester's permission, wrote to

her father asking him to come to her. She did not say that she was

married, but left it to be inferred. She descanted on the beauty of the

neighbourhood, the size of the yard, and the manifold conveniences of the establishment. "It is so very nice," she added, "you would like it, papa.

Vesta is here and goes to school every day. Won't you come and stay with

us? It's so much better than living in a factory. And I would like to have you so."

Gerhardt read this letter with a solemn countenance. Was it really true?

Would they be taking a larger house if they were not permanently united?

After all these years and all this lying? Could he have been mistaken?

Well, it was high time—but should he go? He had lived alone this long

time now—should he go to Chicago and live with Jennie? Her appeal did

touch him, but somehow he decided against it. That would be too

generous an acknowledgment of the fact that there had been fault on his

side as well as on hers.

Jennie was disappointed at Gerhardt's refusal. She talked it over with

Lester, and decided that she would go on to Cleveland and see him.

Accordingly, she made the trip, hunted up the factory, a great rumbling

furniture concern in one of the poorest sections of the city, and inquired at the office for her father. The clerk directed her to a distant warehouse, and Gerhardt was informed that a lady wished to see him. He crawled out of

his humble cot and came down, curious as to who it could be. When

Jennie saw him in his dusty, baggy clothes, his hair grey, his eyebrows

shaggy, coming out of the dark door, a keen sense of the pathetic moved

her again. "Poor papa!" she thought. He came toward her, his inquisitorial eye softened a little by his consciousness of the affection that had inspired her visit. "What are you come for?" he asked cautiously.

"I want you to come home with me, papa," she pleaded yearningly. "I don't want you to stay here any more. I can't think of you living alone any longer."

"So," he said, nonplussed, "that brings you?"

"Yes," she replied; "Won't you? Don't stay here."

"I have a good bed," he explained by way of apology for his state.

"I know," she replied, "but we have a good home now and Vesta is there.

Won't you come? Lester wants you to."

"Tell me one thing," he demanded. "Are you married?"

"Yes," she replied, lying hopelessly. "I have been married a long time.

You can ask Lester when you come." She could scarcely look him in the face, but she managed somehow, and he believed her.

"Well," he said, "it is time."

"Won't you come, papa?" she pleaded.

He threw out his hands after his characteristic manner. The urgency of her appeal touched him to the quick. "Yes, I come," he said, and turned; but she saw by his shoulders what was happening. He was crying.

"Now, papa?" she pleaded.

For answer he walked back into the dark warehouse to get his things.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

Gerhardt, having become an inmate of the Hyde Park home, at once

bestirred himself about the labours which he felt instinctively concerned him. He took charge of the furnace and the yard, outraged at the thought

that good money should be paid to any outsider when he had nothing to

do. The trees, he declared to Jennie, were in a dreadful condition. If

Lester would get him a pruning knife and a saw he would attend to them

in the spring. In Germany they knew how to care for such things, but

these Americans were so shiftless. Then he wanted tools and nails, and in time all the closets and shelves were put in order. He found a Lutheran

Church almost two miles away, and declared that it was better than the

one in Cleveland. The pastor, of course, was a heaven-sent son of

divinity. And nothing would do but that Vesta must go to church with him

regularly.

Jennie and Lester settled down into the new order of living with some

misgivings; certain difficulties were sure to arise. On the North Side it had been easy for Jennie to shun neighbours and say nothing. Now they

were occupying a house of some pretensions; their immediate neighbours

would feel it their duty to call, and Jennie would have to play the part of an experienced hostess. She and Lester had talked this situation over. It might as well be understood here, he said, that they were husband and