unrepentant Jerry. "If people say we're so bad let's be bad."
"But not if it hurts father," pleaded Faith.
Jerry squirmed uncomfortably. He adored his father. Through the unshaded study window they could see Mr. Meredith at his desk. He did not seem to be either reading or writing. His head was in his hands and there was something in his whole attitude that spoke of weariness and dejection. The children suddenly felt it.
"I dare say somebody's been worrying him about us to-day," said Faith. "I wish we could get along without making people talk. Oh—Jem Blythe! How you scared me!"
Jem Blythe had slipped into the graveyard and sat down beside the girls. He had been prowling about Rainbow Valley and had succeeded in finding the first little star-white cluster of arbutus for his mother. The manse children were rather silent after his coming. Jem was beginning to grow away from them somewhat this spring. He was studying for the entrance examination of Queen's Academy and stayed after school with the older pupils for extra lessons. Also, his evenings were so full of work that he seldom joined the others in Rainbow Valley now. He seemed to be drifting away into grown-up land.
"What is the matter with you all to-night?" he asked. "There's no fun in you."
"Not much," agreed Faith dolefully. "There
