Gerhardt, having become an inmate of the Hyde Park home, at once bestirred himself about the labours which he felt instinctively concerned him. He took charge of the furnace and the yard, outraged at the thought that good money should be paid to any outsider when he had nothing to do. The trees, he declared to Jennie, were in a dreadful condition. If Lester would get him a pruning knife and a saw he would attend to them in the spring. In Germany they knew how to care for such things, but these Americans were so shiftless. Then he wanted tools and nails, and in time all the closets and shelves were put in order. He found a Lutheran Church almost two miles away, and declared that it was better than the one in Cleveland. The pastor, of course, was a heaven-sent son of divinity. And nothing would do but that Vesta must go to church with him regularly.

Jennie and Lester settled down into the new order of living with some misgivings; certain difficulties were sure to arise. On the North Side it had been easy for Jennie to shun neighbours and say nothing. Now they were occupying a house of some pretensions; their immediate neighbours would feel it their duty to call, and Jennie would have to play the part of an experienced hostess. She and Lester had talked this situation over. It might as well be understood here, he said, that they were husband and wife. Vesta was to be introduced as Jennie’s daughter by her first marriage, her husband, a Mr. Stover (her mother’s maiden name), having died immediately after the child’s birth. Lester, of course, was the stepfather. This particular neighbourhood was so far from the fashionable heart of Chicago that Lester did not expect to run into many of his friends. He explained to Jennie the ordinary formalities of social intercourse, so that when the first visitor called Jennie might be prepared to receive her. Within a fortnight this first visitor arrived in the person of Mrs. Jacob Stendahl, a woman of considerable importance in this particular section. She lived five doors from Jennie — the houses of the neighbourhood were all set in spacious lawns — and drove up in her carriage, on her return from her shopping, one afternoon.

“Is Mrs. Kane in?” she asked of Jeannette, the new maid.

“I think so, mam,” answered the girl. “Won’t you let me have your card?”

The card was given and taken to Jennie, who looked at it curiously.

When Jennie came into the parlour Mrs. Stendahl, a tall dark, inquisitive-looking woman, greeted her most cordially.

“I thought I would take the liberty of intruding on you,” she said most winningly. “I am one of your neighbours. I live on the other side of the street, some few doors up. Perhaps you have seen the house — the one with the white stone gate-posts.”

“Oh, yes indeed,” replied Jennie. “I know it well. Mr. Kane and I were admiring it the first day we came out here.”

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