Chapter VThe storm raged on, with no sign of letting up.
The two young people in Marget Macdonald’s little parlor were getting acquainted without realizing it, over the book of college photographs which Tasha had found on the under part of the little stand. Idly she had reached from the low chair in which she had seated herself after the unusual task of wiping dishes, and pulled it toward her turning over the pages, with little idea of being amused, till she suddenly came upon a face which she knew.
“Why! Isn’t that Jerry Fisher?” she exclaimed. “This one with the football in his hand? Do you know Jerry?”
“I sure do!” was the hearty response, as Thurly came over to her side and looked over her shoulder. “I roomed with Jerry for two semesters at college!”
That was the beginning. At once
