Her mother's face flared with color. She stepped forward and laid an entreating hand on Jerry's. "Oh, no--_no_!" she cried. "You must not think that--no one must. He--your father--was the finest man that ever lived. But he made me promise, when you were a wee, wee baby, that I would try to protect you from the bitterness of the world that had--broken his heart. Oh, he died of a broken heart, a broken spirit. He lived in his dreams, his inventions were a part of him--like his right arm! When they failed he suffered cruelly. Then he had one that he knew was good. But----" she stopped abruptly, remembering that these people were Westleys. "But he could never have been happy. He was not practical or--or sensible. His brain wore out his body--it was always, always working along one line. And before he--died, he seemed to have the fear that you might grow up to be like him--'a puppet for the thieves to fleece and feed upon,' he used to say. After he--died, we stayed on in Dr. Travis' cabin, where he had sheltered and cared for your father. He moved down into the village but, oh, he was so good to us! When, two years later I married him and we built this home, I vowed that I would keep only the blessed peace of Sunnyside for you. So I never told you of your own father and those dreadful years of poverty. But I was not _ashamed_!" Jerry, not knowing exactly why, put one arm around her mother's shoulder in a protecting manner. "Poor, brave Sweetheart," she whispered, laying her cheek against her mother's arm. Isobel and Gyp were held silent by a disturbing sense of embarrassment. That it should have been Jerry's father whom their Uncle Peter had "fleeced"--the horrible word which had slipped reminiscently from Mrs. Travis' lips burned in their ears! But a sudden delight finally broke loose Gyp's tongue. "Oh, _Jerry_, isn't it _exciting_ to think we've been hunting everywhere and all the time it's _you_! I'm glad--'cause it sort of makes you a relation." And her logic was so extremely stretched that everyone laughed. "I'd rather you got the money than anyone in the world," added Isobel. The money--Jerry had not thought of that! Her face flushed scarlet, then paled. "Oh, I don't want it," she cried. "You've done so much for me." "My dear," Uncle Johnny's voice was very business-like. "It is something you have not the right to decline, because it was given by a dying man to purchase a peace of mind for his last moment on earth. And now let me look you over, Jerry-girl." He tilted her chin and studied her face. Then he glanced approvingly down her slim length, smiling at her boyish garments. "I guess my experiment hasn't hurt you," he said, though no one there knew what he meant. The evening was very exciting--why would it not be when Jerry had found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow right in her very own lap? Uncle Johnny stayed on overnight; some repairs to a tire were necessary before he started homeward.