"Oh, Jerome, you look just like father," whispered Elmira, suddenly,
with awed, fascinated eyes on his face.

"Now you go in and wash up the dishes, and sweep the kitchen, and
make up the beds, and don't you cry before mother or say anything to
pester her," said Jerome.

"What you goin' to do, Jerome?" Elmira asked, timidly.

"I'm goin' to take care of the horse and finish plantin' them beans
first."

"What you goin' to do then?"

"Somethin'--you wait and see." Jerome spoke with his first betrayal
of boyish weakness, for a certain importance crept into his tone.

Elmira instinctively recognized it, and took advantage of it. "Ain't
you goin' to ask mother, Jerome Edwards?" she said.

"I'm goin' to do what's best," answered Jerome; and again that
uncanny gravity of authority which so awed her was in his face.

When he again bade her go into the house and do as he said, she
obeyed with a longing, incredulous look at him.

Jerome had not eaten much breakfast; indeed, he had not finished when
Elmira had beckoned him out. But he said to himself that he did not
want any more--he would go straight about his tasks.