He would never feel that he must help her and try to make the way easy for her to take care of the children.

So, if he was like that, was it conceivable that she could ever possibly love him? And if she didn’t love him, of course she couldn’t endure it to marry him.

Money? Yes, he had slews of money. But then she probably had enough of that herself to get along on, and even if she didn’t, what was money? One couldn’t love a man for his money. And money wouldn’t ever make a happy home.

Thoughtfully, as she gazed out into the night, she remembered the thrill that had come to her, tired though she was, with the little sleeping brother, dear and warm in her arms, his sweet young breath like clover blossoms wafting now and then against her cheek. She tried to consider the young man who earlier that evening had urged her to come to his home and forget her dear ones. Urged her to consider going away with him and leaving behind all the burdens that disaster had brought upon her life.

Peter was extremely good-looking, it was true. She had at times been intrigued by that. It had amused her to realize that her escort was one of the handsomest young men in town. Oh, the way he could look at one with those great melting eyes of his, under the long silky lashes, eyes full of deep admiration, eyes full of adoring love! At least that was what she used to think it was in the days when she was proud to go with him. But was it real love for her? Or was it just admiration of something he thought would bring pleasure and honor to himself? Was there something hard and selfish even in his love?

The smile on his full, well-shaped lips! How it used often to stir her! Yet that smile today somehow had not stirred. Those lips had looked too full and petted, like the lips of a spoiled boy. Had the vision she had had of him this afternoon been one of disillusioning?

Well, the future might possibly bring some better view again, but somehow she felt pretty sure of herself that so far she was not in love with Peter Willis.

If only the brother and sister sitting there so silently in the dark could have looked into each other’s thoughts, what relief it might have been, and perhaps what an enlightenment for both of them.

But Jeremy went on worrying about “that chump, Peter” and wondering if there was anything he could possibly do about it, and Jennifer went on trying to be honest with herself and not too hard on Peter.

Chapter 8

Suddenly as she drove along through the night Jennifer was weeping, the tears pouring down and dropping on her dress, on her hands, on the wheel. It was the first time she had wept since that awful hour in the library when she had heard the aunts discussing their affairs and the whole overwhelming change in their lives came over her. How terrible it all was! Suppose they shouldn’t succeed in evading the aunts after all. Suppose they should find them and bring them back and fix things so that they could bend them to their will!

Suppose they should take little Robin and send him off to a school all by himself! Just a baby! Oh, what was the use of living?

Firmly she set her lips and caught the bitter salt tears. The taste of them was awful in her mouth, like the bitterness that had come to all their lives. Daddy and Mother gone and only herself and Jerry to stand between the others and the world! She caught her breath in a little quick sob, and then Jerry turned and looked at her through the darkness.

They were traveling through woods, and there was no visible sky, even overhead, so it was thick darkness on all sides.

But Jerry put out his hand and touched her face and startled her.

“Kid, you’re bawling!” he said gently, almost tenderly. She had never heard Jerry speak that way before. It was as if he were older, were almost like an elder brother, and wanted to comfort her. And suddenly the thought of comfort from him overwhelmed her, and she almost broke down.

But that must not be! Besides, she couldn’t drive if she broke down. She must conquer this.

“I’m—all—right—buddy!” she gasped out with a choking little voice. And then she lifted a brave young hand and reached over to pat his hand.

“Say, Jerry, where are we supposed to be going?” she asked suddenly. “Where does this road lead? Or—are we just—going?” She tried to summon a little laugh, and he grinned in the darkness.

“We’re going to the boat!” he said and tried to watch her face by the fitful light of the dashboard. There was something dogged about his tone of voice, as if it carried a challenge for her objection. He hadn’t asked her advice about this. He wasn’t at all sure she would approve, but it was the best thing he could think of for a goal.

“To—the—boat?” she breathed in amazement. “I—didn’t—remember—we had a boat! I thought Daddy sold it! But— Oh-h! Won’t they come right to it? Won’t that be one of the first places they will look?”

“No,” said Jeremy gravely. “They don’t know we have it. Dad did sell the other boat, but that last day when he and I went down to get out the personal things we wanted to keep, Dad bought another one. He heard of it through a friend, and we went down that day and bought it. It’s away down a hundred and fifty miles farther, even, than the old place; but that’s all the better for us, I guess.