"But, ma'am, after she's had all this fine living and everything, I'm afraid we'll seem very common. You don't think she'd better go to school here, and keep nearer her own folks?" "Well, the other plan seems best to me. But after she has tried it a year, if she doesn't like it she shall be at liberty to come back to Hope." "That's fair, I'm sure. Thank you, ma'am. And I don't just know what to say, only that I think it's mighty generous of you, though she's welcome to my home and all I have. I've never grudged her a penny." "I am sure of that. Will you explain the matter to your wife? The agreement will come next week. And at the last I shall take her to New York to be fitted out with clothes. If there is any point you do not quite understand I shall be very willing to explain." He rose in a dazed kind of fashion, and made an awkward bow, then went round to the kitchen end, where Helen had been sorting over blackberries. "Oh, my child," he cried with a new tenderness. "I can't bear to think of your going away!" Helen gave a long, sighing breath, then smiled. "Miss Gage is to be taken to Europe, and her folks are willing," she subjoined. "And this place isn't so far away. You can write and come home in vacation." Then he would consent. She felt relieved that there was to be no argument. "What do you think Aunt Jane will say?" she inquired, clasping his arm. "Well, she'll be mighty set against it. I'll have a hard row to hoe when I go home. There'll be weeds of last year and year before," laughing brusquely. "I wish the old lady had to tackle her." "But I don't. Aunt Jane says a good many things at first that she doesn't mean. It's the wrong side of something full of seams and knots, but when you get it turned out it is ever so much smoother." "You're right. You're just right. You've quick sight in a good many things, Helen, and I should hate awfully to have you spoiled, and get so grand you'd look down on us. Mother aint much for book learnin', and Jen's as smart as a steel trap, if she is ours. Oh, and there's the wedding. Why I don't see how we can do without you," and he looked really alarmed. "Perhaps I won't have to go so soon." Somehow she was almost afraid she wouldn't go at all. It was one of the happenings that seemed too good to be true, too wonderful for her. "Well, I must get along. Mother'll wonder what kept me." "And, oh, Uncle Jason, don't ever feel afraid that I shall forget you, and all your goodness." Helen flung her arms around his neck and kissed his rough cheek tenderly. "No, my girl, no. I should hope not. We'll hear soon, I suppose. And you will come over." "Yes." Helen felt a little conscience smitten. She could go over and spend Sunday, but he did not ask it, and she did not proffer. She could imagine the time there would be, and oh, she would so much rather be out of it.