Harold would have passed them at once, as he knew his grandmother was in a hurry for the cherries, but Jerry had no such intention.
Stopping short in front of Maude, she inspected her carefully, from her white dress and bright plaid sash to the string of amber beads around her neck; while, side by side with this picture, she saw herself in her dark calico frock and high-necked apron, with her sun-bonnet and tin pail on her arm.

Jerry did not like the contrast, and a lump began to swell in her throat.

Then, as a happy thought struck her, she said, with something like exultation in her tone: 'My hair curls and yours don't.' 'No,' Maude answered, slowly--'no it don't curl, but it's black, and yours is yaller.' This was a set back to Jerry, who hated everything yellow, and who had never dreamed of applying that color to her hair.

She only knew that Dick St.Claire had called it pretty, but in this new light thrown upon it all her pride vanished, for she recognized like a flash that it might be 'yaller,' and stood there silent and vanquished, until Maude, who in turn had been regarding her attentively, said to her: 'Ain't you Jerry Crawford ?' That broke the ice of reserve, and the two little girls were soon talking together familiarly, and Jerry was asking Maude if she wore beads and her best clothes every day.
'Phoo! These ain't my best clothes.

I have one gown all brawdery and lace,' was Maude's reply, while Jack, who was standing near, chimed in: 'My father's got lots of money, and so has Uncle Arthur, and when he dies we are going to have it; Tom says so.' Slowly the shadows gathered on Jerry's brow as she said, sadly; 'I wish I had an Uncle Arthur, and could wear beads and a sash every day' Then, as she looked at Harold, her face brightened immediately and she exclaimed.
'But I have Harold and a grandma, and you hain't,' and running up to Harold, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him lovingly, as if to make amends for the momentary repining.
'We must go now,' Harold said, and taking her hand in his, he led her away toward the house, which impressed her with so much awe that as she drew near to it, she held her breath and walked on tiptoe, as if afraid that any sound from her would be sacrilege in that aristocratic atmosphere.
'Oh, isn't it grand, Harold ?' Isn't it grand!' she kept repeating, with her mouth full of cherries, after they had reached the trees on which the ripe, red fruit hung so thickly.