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It just kept snowing, so at last I decided to take a little hunt and provide for the day. I left Jerrine happy with the towel rolled into a baby, and went along the brow of the mountain for almost a mile, but the snow fell so thickly that I couldn't see far. Then I happened to look down into the cañon that lay east of us and saw smoke.
I am afraid this letter will seem rather jumbled. I still want the address of your friend in Salem or any other. I shall find time to write, and I am not going to let my baby prevent me from having many enjoyable outings. We call our boy Henry Clyde for his father. He is a dear little thing, but he is a lusty yeller for baby's rights. With much love, JERRINE AND HER MAMMA. October 14, 1911.
There was the name Jerrine on the child's clothing, he said and the initials 'N.B. on that of her mother, who was evidently French, although she must have come from Germany. 'Yes, Arthur replied, 'the child is a German, and interests me greatly. Her face and something in her voice has haunted me all the afternoon. Was there nothing in that trunk or the carpet-bag which would be a clue?
The magazines and Jerrine's cards and Mother Goose book came long ago, and Jerrine and I were both made happy. I wish I could do nice things for you, but all I can do is to love you. Your sincere friend, ELINORE RUPERT. February, 1912. ... This time I want to tell you about a "stocking-leg" dinner which I attended not long ago.
I am not strong yet, and my eyes are still bothering me, but I hope to be all right soon now, and I promise you a better letter next time. Jerrine is very proud of her necklace. I think they are so nice for children. I can remember how proud I was of mine when I was a child. Please give your brother our thanks, and tell him his little gift made my little girl very happy.
'About twenty, she answered, but her voice was a whisper, and her head fell forward a little, though she kept her eyes upon Arthur, who went on: 'And they christened my baby and Gretchen's you say? What name did they give her? Speak quick, for I believe I am dying. 'They called her Jerrine, but you know her as Jerrie, for for I am Gretchen's daughter, fell from Jerrie's lips.
"Why, because," she answered, and her eyes were big with surprise, "no one would want to say they were from New York City." It had been a trying day for us, so soon Jerrine and I slipped out to our room. Ours was the first room off the sitting-room, and a long hallway led past our door; a bench sat against the wall, and it seemed a favorite roosting-place for people with long discussions.
It was not difficult to find in Wiesbaden people who had remembered Gretchen and the grand marriage she had made with the rich American, who afterward abandoned her. That was the way they worded it, and they remembered too, the little girl, Jerrine, whom, after her mother's death, the nurse, Nannine, took to her father's friends, since which nothing had been heard from her.
We are sixty miles from the railroad, but when we want anything we send by the mail-carrier for it, only there is nothing to get. I know this is an inexcusably long letter, but it is snowing so hard and you know how I like to talk. I am sure Jerrine will enjoy the cards and we will be glad to get them.
It is customary here for newlyweds to give a dance and supper at the hall, but as I was a stranger I preferred not to, and so it was a long time before I became acquainted with all my neighbors. I had not thought I should ever marry again. Jerrine was always such a dear little pal, and I wanted to just knock about foot-loose and free to see life as a gypsy sees it.
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