Produced by David Clarke, Louise Pryor and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net JERRY _BY THE SAME AUTHOR._ UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME Daddy-Long-Legs. Just Patty. Patty and Priscilla. The Four Pools Mystery. The Wheat Princess. Dear Enemy. Much Ado about Peter. LONDON: HODDER & STOUGHTON. JERRY By JEAN WEBSTER Author of "Dear Enemy," etc HODDER AND STOUGHTON LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO Copyright, 1907, by THE CENTURY CO. * * * * * Copyright, 1906, 1907, by THE CROWELL PUBLISHING COMPANY. CHAPTER I The courtyard of the Hotel du Lac, furnished with half a dozen tables and chairs, a red and green parrot chained to a perch, and a shady little arbour covered with vines, is a pleasant enough place for morning coffee, but decidedly too sunny for afternoon tea. It was close upon four of a July day, when Gustavo, his inseparable napkin floating from his arm, emerged from the cool dark doorway of the house and scanned the burning vista of tables and chairs. He would never, under ordinary circumstances, have interrupted his siesta for the mere delivery of a letter; but this particular letter was addressed to the young American man, and young American men, as every head waiter knows, are an unreasonably impatient lot. The courtyard was empty, as he might have foreseen, and he was turning with a patient sigh towards the long arbour that led to the lake, when the sound of a rustling paper in the summer-house deflected his course. He approached the doorway and looked inside. The young American man, in white flannels with a red guide-book protruding from his pocket, was comfortably stretched in a lounging chair engaged with a cigarette and a copy of the Paris _Herald_. He glanced up with a yawn--excusable under the circumstances--but as his eye fell upon the letter he sprang to his feet. 'Hello, Gustavo! Is that for me?' Gustavo bowed. '_Ecco_! She is at last arrive, ze lettair for which you haf so moch weesh.' He bowed a second time and presented it. 'Meestair Jayreen Ailyar!' The young man laughed. 'I don't wish to hurt your feelings, Gustavo, but I'm not sure I should answer if my eyes were shut.' He picked up the letter, glanced at the address to make sure--the name was Jerymn Hilliard, Jr.--and ripped it open with an exaggerated sigh of relief. Then he glanced up and caught Gustavo's expression. Gustavo came of a romantic race; there was a gleam of sympathetic interest in his eye. 'Oh, you needn't look so knowing! I suppose you think this is a love-letter? Well it's not. It is, since you appear to be interested, a letter from my sister informing me that they will arrive to-night, and that we will pull out for Riva by the first boat to-morrow morning. Not that I want to leave you, Gustavo, but--Oh thunder!'