"ten miles more... three miles more ... five blocks more," mr. john had been saying at intervals as the big car rolled along, carrying jerry nearer and nearer to her new home.

for the two days of the trip jerry had scarcely spoken; indeed, more than once her breath had caught in her throat. each moment brought something new, more wonderful than anything her fancy had ever pictured. she liked best the cities through which they passed, their life, the bustle and confusion, the hurrying throngs, the rushing automobiles, the gleaming railroad tracks like taut bands of silver, the smoke-screened factories with their belching stacks, the rows upon rows of houses, snuggling in friendly fashion close to one another.

john westley had found himself fascinated in watching the eager alertness of her observation. he longed to know just what was passing back of those bright eyes; he tried to draw out some expression, but jerry had turned to him an appealing look that said more plainly than words that she simply couldn't tell how wonderful everything seemed to her, so he had to content himself with watching the rapture reflected in her face and manner.

but when, after leaving mrs. allan at her brother's, mr. john had said "five blocks more," jerry had clutched the side of the car in an ecstasy of anticipation. from the deep store of her vivid imagination she had drawn a mental picture of what the westley home and isobel, gyp, graham and tibby would be like. the house, in her fancy, resembled pictures of turreted castles; however, when she saw that it was really square and brick, with a little iron grille enclosing the tiniest scrap of a lawn, she was too excited to be disappointed.

two small carved stone lions guarded each side of the flight of steps that led to the big front door; their stony, stoic stare drew a sharp bark of challenge from pepperpot, snuggled in jerry's arms.

"hush, pepper," admonished jerry. "you mustn't forget your manners."

as john westley opened the door of the tonneau his eyes swept the front of the house in a disappointed way. he had expected that great door to open and his precious nieces and nephew to come tumbling out to welcome him.

he could not know--because his glance could not penetrate the crisp curtains at a certain window of the second floor--that from behind it gyp, graham and tibby had been watching the street for a half hour. isobel had resolutely affected utter indifference and had sat reading a book, though more than once she had peeped covertly over gyp's shoulder down the broad avenue.

"there they are!" tibby had been the first to spy the big car.

"isobel"--gyp screamed--"look at her hat!"

"i wish she was a boy," groaned graham again. "doesn't uncle johnny look great? i say--come on, let's go down!"

it had been a prearranged pact among the young westleys not to greet the little stranger with any show of eagerness.

tibby welcomed the suggestion. "oh--let's!" she cried.

it was at that moment that pepperpot had barked his disapproval of the weather-worn lions. graham and gyp gave a shout of delight.

"look! look--a dog! hurray!"

"maybe now mother will have to let us keep him," graham added. "come on, girls," he raced toward the stairs.

their voices roused mrs. westley. she had not expected uncle johnny for another hour. she flew with the children; there was nothing wanting in her welcome.

"john westley--you look like a new man! and this is our little girl? welcome to our home, my dear. did you have a nice trip? did you leave pen allan at the everetts? how is she?" as she chattered away, with one hand through john westley's arm and the other holding jerry's, she drew them into the big hall and to the living-room beyond. jerry's round, shining eyes took in, with a lightning glance, the rich mahogany woodwork, the soft rugs like dark pools on the shiny floor, the long living-room with its amber-toned hangings, and the three curious faces staring at her over mr. john's shoulder.

"gyp, my dear," john westley untangled long arms from around his neck, "here's a twin for you. jerry, this boy is my nephew graham--he's not nearly as grown-up as he looks. and this is tibby!"

jerry flashed a smile. they seemed to her--this awkward, thin, dark-skinned girl whom uncle johnny had called gyp, the tall, roguish-faced boy, and little tibby, whose straight braids were black like gyp's and whose eyes were violet-blue--more wonderful than anything she had seen along the way; they were, indeed, the "best of all."

"oh," she stammered, in a laughing, excited way, "it's just wonderful to--really--be--be here." before her glowing enthusiasm the children's prejudice melted in a twinkling. gyp held out her hand with a friendly gesture and pepperpot, as though he understood everything that was happening, stuck his head out from the shelter of jerry's arm and thrust his paw into gyp's welcoming clasp.

everyone laughed--graham and tibby uproariously.

"goodness me--a dog!" mrs. westley cried, with a startled glance toward john westley.

"let him down," commanded graham, as though he and jerry were old friends. jerry put pepperpot down and the four children leaned over him. promptly pepperpot stood on his hind legs and executed a merry dance.

"he cut through the woods and headed us off, miles away from the notch--we couldn't do anything else but bring him along," uncle johnny whispered to mrs. westley under cover of the children's laughter. "for heaven's sake, mary, let him stay."

there had been for years a very fixed rule in the westley household that dogs were "not allowed." "they bring their dirty feet and their greasy bones and things on the rugs and the chairs," was the standing complaint, though mrs. westley had never minded telltale marks from muddy little shoes nor the imprint of sticky fingers on satin upholstery; nor had she ever allowed painters to gloss over the initials that graham had carved with his first jackknife on one of the broad window-sills of the library. "when he's a grown man and away from the nest--i'll have that," she had explained.

"i don't know what mrs. hicks will say," she answered rather helplessly, knowing, as she watched the young people, that she would not have the heart to bar pepper from their midst.

"i say, jerry,"--graham had pepper's nose in his hand--"can i have him for my dog? nearly all the fellows have dogs, but mother----" he glanced quickly in her direction.

graham might just as well have asked jerry to cut out a part of her heart and hand it over; however, his face was so wistful that she answered, impulsively: "he can belong to all of us!"

"where's isobel?" cried uncle johnny, looking around.

isobel had been listening from the turn of the stairway. she had really wanted, more than anything else, to race down the stairs and throw herself in uncle johnny's arms. (he was certain to have some pretty gift for her concealed in one of his pockets.) but she must show the others that she would stick to her word. so, in answer to his call, she walked slowly down the stairway, with a smile that carefully included only uncle johnny.

jerry thought that she had never in her whole life seen anyone quite as pretty as isobel! she stared, fascinated. to uncle johnny's introduction she answered awkwardly, uncomfortably conscious that isobel's eyes were unfriendly. she wished, with all her heart, that isobel would say something nice, but isobel, after a little nod, turned back to her uncle.

"gyp, take jerry to her room. graham, carry her bags up," directed mrs. westley.

"pepper, too?" cried tibby.

but pepper had dashed up the stairs, and had turned at the landing and, standing again on his hind legs, had barked. even mrs. westley laughed. "pepper's answering that question himself," she replied. she turned to uncle johnny. "if it comes to a choice between mrs. hicks and that dog i plainly see mrs. hicks will have to go."

john westley declared he had not known how "good" it would feel to get "home" again. though he really lived in an apartment a few blocks away, he had always looked upon his brother's house as home and spent the greater part of his leisure time there. mrs. westley ordered tea. uncle johnny slipped isobel's hand through his arm and followed mrs. westley into the cheery library.

above, jerry was declaring that her room was just "wonderful." she ran from one window to another to gaze rapturously out over the neighboring housetops. the brick, wall-enclosed court below, with its iron gate letting into an alleyway, was to her an enchanted battlement!

graham's trophies, tibby's dolls, isobel's drawing tools had disappeared; a little old-fashioned white wooden bed had been put up in one corner; its snowy linen cover, with woven pink roses in orderly clusters, gave it an inviting look; there was a pink pillow in the deep chair in the bay-window; a round table stood near the chair; on it were some of gyp's books and a little work-basket. and the toys had been left in the old bookcase, so that, mrs. westley had decided, the room would look as if a little girl could really live in it! little wonder that jerry thought it all "wonderful."

when gyp heard the rattle of tea-cups below, they all tore downstairs again, pepper at their heels. they gathered around uncle johnny and drank iced tea and ate little frosted cakes and demanded to be told how he had felt when he knew he was lost on that "big mountain." they were all so nice and jolly, jerry thought, and, though isobel ignored her, she must be as nice as the others, because uncle johnny kept her next to him and held her hand. the late afternoon sun slanted through the long windows with a pleasant glow; the rows and rows of books on the open shelves made jerry feel at home; the great, deep-seated chairs gave her a delicious sense of refuge.

it was uncle johnny who, after dinner, sent jerry off to bed early; though she declared she was not one little bit tired, he had noticed that the brightness had gone from her face. gyp and tibby went upstairs with her; graham disappeared with pepperpot.

"what do you think of my girl?" john westley asked his sister-in-law. they had gone back to the library. isobel sat on a stool close to uncle johnny's chair.

"she seems like an unusually nice, jolly child. but----" mrs. westley looked a little distressed. "may she not be homesick here, john--so far from her folks?" she hated to think of such a possibility.

"i thought of that," john westley chuckled. "i said something about it to her. what do you think she said? she waited a moment before she answered me--as though she was carefully considering it. 'well,' she said, 'anyway, one wouldn't be homesick for very long, would one?' as though it'd be like measles--or mumps. this is an adventure to her; she's been dreaming about it all her life!" he told, then, about the wishing-rock.

"i tell you, mary, there's some sort of spirit about the girl that's unusual! it must come from some fire of genius further back than her hermit-parents. i'm as certain as anything that there's a mystery about the child. i've knocked about among all sorts of people, but i never found such a curious family before--in such a place. dr. travis is one of those mortals whose feet touch the earth and whose head is in the clouds; mrs. travis is a cultured, beautiful woman with a look in her eyes as though she was always afraid of something--just behind. and then jerry--like them both and not a bit like 'em--her head in the clouds, all right--a girl who sees beauty and a promise and a vision in everything--a girl of dreams! you can imagine almost any sort of a story about her."

as mrs. allan had done, mrs. westley laughed at her brother-in-law's enthusiasm.

"she's probably just a healthy girl who has been brought up in a simple way by very sensible parents." her matter-of-fact tone made john westley feel a little foolish. "she's a dear, sunny child and i hope she will be happy here."

"what got me was her utter lack of self-consciousness and her faith in herself. not an affectation about her--that's why i wanted her at lincoln school."

"no one'll look at her there--she's so dowdy!" burst out isobel.

her uncle turned quickly, surprised and a little hurt at the pettishness of her tone.

"isobel, dear--" protested her mother.

then uncle johnny laughed. "i rather guess, from my observation of the vagaries of you young people, that sometimes one little thing can make even a 'dowdy' girl popular--then, if she has the right stuff in her, she can be a leader. what is it starts you all wearing these little black belts round your waists, or this mousetrap," poking the puffs of pretty silk hair that hid her ears; "it's a psychology that's beyond most of us! maybe my jerry will set a new style in lincoln."

isobel blazed in her scorn.

"well, i'd die before i'd look like her!" she cried. "i'm going to bed." she felt very cross. she had wanted uncle johnny to tell her that she looked well; she had on a new dress and her hair was combed in a very new way; she had grown, too, in the summer. instead he had talked of nothing but jerry, jerry--and such silly talk about her eyes shining as though they reflected golden visions within! she stalked away with a bare good-night.

uncle johnny might have said something if isobel's mother had not given a long sigh.

"i can't--always--understand isobel now," she said. "she has grown so self-centered. i'll be glad when school begins." mrs. westley, like many another perplexed parent, looked upon school as a cure for all evils.

jerry and gyp had been busily unpacking jerry's belongings and putting them away in the little white bureau.

"where's pepper?" asked jerry, in sudden alarm. the children had been warned to keep the little dog from "under mrs. hicks' feet." in a flash jerry had a horrible vision of some cruel fate befalling her pet.

"i'll just bet graham has him," declared gyp, indignantly.

they tiptoed down the hall and up the stairs to graham's door. graham lay in bed, sound asleep; beside him lay pepper, carefully tucked under the bedclothes. one of graham's arms was flung out over the dog.

some instinct told jerry that a long-felt yearning in this boy's heart had at last been satisfied. and pepper must have felt it, too, for, though at the sight of his little mistress a distressed quiver shot through him, he bravely pretended to be soundly sleeping.

"let him have him," whispered jerry.

but, for a long time, jerry, under the pink and white cover, blinked at the little circle of brightness reflected from the electric light outside, trying hard not to wish she had pepperpot with her "to keep away the lonesomes." the night sounds of the city hummed in eerie cadences in her ears. she resolutely counted one-two-three to one hundred and back again to one to keep the thoughts of mother and sunnyside out of her head; then, just as she felt a great choking sob rise in her throat, she heard a little scratch-scratch at her door.

"oh, pepper--i'm so glad you came!" she caught the shaggy little form to her. she could not let him lie on the pink-and-whiteness, so she carefully spread it over the footboard and folded her own coat for him to sleep on.

how magically everything changed--when a shaggy terrier snuggled against her feet. the haunting shadows fled, the sob gave way to a contented little sigh and jerry fell asleep with the memory of gyp's dark, roguish face in her thoughts and a consuming eagerness to have the morning come quickly.