"If I could only persuade Jerry to come now, all would be well," he meditated. "And I have hopes. The last news of her tells me a few things. She hasn't fallen in love with York Macpherson. He'd hate me less if she had, and he detests me. I saw that, all right, when he was here last month. And she's pretty tired of the life of the wilderness. I know that. If she would come right now it would settle things forever. I'd go after her if the old lady would permit it. I'd go, anyhow, if I dared. But I must keep an eye on Uncle Cornie's widow day and night, and, hungry as I am for one glimpse of Jerry's sweet face, I couldn't meet Jerusha D. in her wrath if I disobeyed her." Eugene had the chauffeur pause while he surveyed the lilac-walk and the big maples and the lotus-pond. "If Jerry would come _now_," he began again, with himself, "she would be heir to all this. If she doesn't come soon, there's trouble ahead for Eugene of the soft snaps. To the rose-arbor, Henderson." So Henderson whirled the splendid young product to the doorway of the pretty retreat. Mrs. Darby met her nephew with a sterner face even than she was accustomed to wear. "I want to see you at once," she said, as the young man loitered a moment outside. "Yes, Aunt Jerry," he responded, dutifully enough--as to form. "What have you heard from Jerry recently?" she demanded. "What York Macpherson told us--that she has had a hard year's work in a school-room," Eugene replied. "Humph! I knew that. What are you doing to bring her back to me?" Mrs. Darby snapped off the words. "Nothing now!" the young man answered her. "'Nothing now!' Why not?" Mrs. Darby was in her worst of humors. "Because there is positively nothing to do but to wait," Eugene said, calmly. "She is not in love anywhere else. She is getting tired and disgusted with her plebeian surroundings, and as to her estate--" "What of her estate? I refused to let York Macpherson say a word, although he tried to over-rule me. I told him two things: I'd never forgive Jerry if she didn't come back uninvited by me; and I'd never listen to him blow a big Kansas story of her wonderful possessions. What do you know? You'd be unprejudiced." The old woman had never seemed quite so imperious before. "I have here a paper describing it. York Macpherson sent it to Uncle Cornelius the very week he died. I found it among some other papers shortly after his death and after Jerry left. When York was here he confirmed the report at my insistent request. Read it." Jerusha Darby read, realizing, as she did so, that neither her husband nor York Macpherson had succeeded in doing what Eugene Wellington had done easily. Each had tried in vain to have her read that paper. "You knew the condition of this estate for three years, and never told me. Why?" The old woman's face was very pale.