Jewel: A Chapter in Her Life

CHAPTER VII

THE FIRST EVENING

In the excitement of the early morning start, Jewel had eaten little breakfast, but the soft resonance of the Japanese gong, when it sounded in the hall below, found her unready for food.

However, she judged the mellow sound to be her summons and obediently left her seat by the window. As she went down she looked askance at the tall dark clock which, even as she passed, chimed the half hour melodiously. Certainly her important grandfather lived in a wonderful house. She paused to hear the last notes of the bells, but catching sight of the figure of Mrs. Forbes waiting below, she started and moved on.

“That's right. Come along,” said the housekeeper. “Mr. Evringham likes everybody to be punctual in his house.”

“Oh, has grandpa come home?” inquired Jewel eagerly.

“No, he won't be home for hours yet. Come this way.”

The little girl followed to the dining-room, which she thought quite as wonderful as the clock; but her admiration of all she saw was no longer unmixed. Mrs. Forbes seemed to cast a shadow.

One place was laid at the table, one handsome chair was drawn up to it. Jewel longed to call Anna Belle's attention to the glittering array on the sideboard and behind the crystal doors of cabinets, but something withheld her.

She looked questioningly at the housekeeper. “I think I'll draw up another chair for Anna Belle,” she said.

Mrs. Forbes had already decided, from small signs of assurance, that this Western child was bold. “Give her an inch, and she'll take an ell,” she had said to herself. “I know her sort.”

“Do you mean the doll?” she returned. “Put it down anywhere. You must never bring it to the table. Mr. Evringham wouldn't like it.”

In silence Jewel seated the doll in the nearest chair against the wall, and as she slid up into her own, a neat maid appeared with a puffy and appetizing omelet.

Mrs. Forbes filled the child's glass with water, and the maid set down the omelet and departed.

Jewel's heart sank while Mrs. Forbes presented the souffle.

“I'm sorry,” she began hesitatingly, “I never—I can't”—then she swallowed hard in her desperate plight. “Isn't it pretty?” she said rather breathlessly.

“It's very good,” returned the housekeeper briefly, misconstruing the child's hesitation. “Shall I help you?”

“I—could I have a drink of milk? I don't—I don't eat eggs.”

“Don't eat eggs?” repeated the housekeeper severely. “I'm sorry you have been allowed to be notional. Children should eat what is set before them. Taste of it.”

“I—I couldn't, please.” Jewel's face was averted.

Mrs. Forbes touched an electric bell. The maid reappeared. “Remove the omelet, Sarah, and bring Miss Julia a glass of milk.”

That was the order, but oh, the tone of it! Jewel's heart beat a little faster as she took some bread and butter and drank the milk, Mrs. Forbes standing by, a portentous, solemn, black-robed figure, awful in its silence.

When the child set down the glass empty, she started to push back her chair.

“Wait,” said Mrs. Forbes laconically. She again touched an electric bell. The maid reappeared, removed the bread and milk and served a dainty dessert of preserved peaches, cream, and cake.

“I've really had enough,” said Jewel politely.

“Don't you eat peaches and cream, or cake either?” asked Mrs. Forbes accusingly.

“Yes'm,” returned the child, and ate them without further ado.

“Your trunk has come,” said Mrs. Forbes when at last Jewel slipped down from the table. “I will come up and help you unpack it.”

“If only she wouldn't!” thought the child as she lifted Anna Belle, but the housekeeper preceded her up the stairs, breathing rather heavily.

Sure enough, when they reached the white room, there stood the new trunk that had been packed with so much anticipation. The bright black letters on the side, J. E., had power even now to send a little glow of pride through its possessor. She stole a glance at Mrs. Forbes, but, strange as it may appear, the housekeeper gave no evidence of admiration.

“I don't need to trouble you, Mrs. Forbes. I can unpack it,” said the child.

“I'm up here now, and anyway, I'd better show you where to keep your things. Where's your key?”

Jewel laid down the doll and opened her leather side-bag, producing the key tied with a little ribbon.

Mrs. Forbes unlocked the trunk, lifted out the tray, and began in a business-like manner to dispose of the small belongings that had last been handled so tenderly.

“Mrs. Harry certainly knows how to pack,” ran her thoughts, “and she'd naturally know how to sew. These things are as neat as wax, and the child's well fixed.” In the tray, among other things, were a number of doll's clothes, some writing materials, a box of different colored hair ribbons, and a few books.

“Glad to see a Bible,” thought Mrs. Forbes. “Shows Mrs. Harry is respectable.” She glanced at the three other books. One was a copy of “Heidi,” one was “Alice in Wonderland,” and the third a small black book with the design of a cross and crown in gilt on the cover. Mrs. Forbes looked from this up at the child.

“What's this? Some kind of a daily book, Julia?”

“I—yes, I read it every day.”

“Well, I hope you'll be faithful now your mother's gone. She's taken the trouble to put it in.”

Jewel's eyes had caught a glimpse of green color. Eagerly she reached down into the trunk and drew out carefully a dress in tiny checks of green and white.

“That's my silk dress,” she said, regarding it fondly.

“It is very neatly made,” returned Mrs. Forbes repressively. “It doesn't matter at all what little girls have on if they are clean and neat. It only matters that they shall be obedient and good.”

Jewel regarded her with the patience which children exercise toward the inevitable. “I'd like to fix Anna Belle's drawer myself,” she said modestly.

“Very well, you may. Now here are your shoes and slippers, but I don't find any rubbers.”

“No, I never wear rubbers.”

“What? Doesn't it rain in Chicago?”

“Oh yes indeed, it rains.”

“Then you must get your feet wet. I think you better have had rubbers than a silk dress! What was your mother thinking of?”

Jewel sighed vaguely. She wondered how soon Mrs. Forbes would go away.

This happy event occurred before long, and the little girl amused herself for a while with rearranging somewhat the closet and drawers. Then putting on her hat and taking her doll with her, she stole quietly down the thickly carpeted stairs, and opening the heavy hall door, went out upon the piazza. It was sheltered from the wind, and wicker chairs were scattered about. Jewel looked off curiously amid the trees to where she knew, by her father's description, she should find, after a few minutes' ramble, the ravine and brook. Pretty soon she would wander out there. Just now the sun was warm here, and the roomy chairs held out inviting arms. The child climbed into one of them. Father would come back here some happy day and find her. The thought brought a smile, and with the smile on her lips, her head fell back against a yielding cushion, and in a minute she had fallen asleep. Anna Belle toppled over backward. Her plumed hat was pushed rakishly askew, but little she cared. Her eyelids had fallen, too.

Mrs. Evringham and Eloise, returning late from their luncheon, came upon the little sleeping figure as they walked around the long piazza.

“There she is!” exclaimed Mrs. Evringham softly, putting up her lorgnette. “Behold your rival!”

Eloise regarded the sleeper without curiosity.

“At least she has not come uninvited,” was her only comment.

“But she has come unwelcome, my dear,” returned Mrs. Evringham with relish. “Just wait until our gracious host realizes what he has let himself in for. Oh, there's a good time coming, you may be sure. Hush, don't waken her! It would be a blessed dispensation if she were always to sleep while her grandfather is absent,” and Mrs. Evringham led the way into the house, her laces fluttering.

On the first landing the ladies met Mrs. Forbes, troubled of countenance.

“I am looking for the child Julia,” she said. “I can't think where she can have disappeared.”

“You've not far to seek,” returned Mrs. Evringham airily. “She is asleep on the piazza.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Forbes hastened downstairs and out of doors. Glancing about she quickly perceived the short legs stretched in a reclining chair, and advanced toward the relaxed little figure.

“Julia, wake up!” she said, touching her.

The child stirred and opened her eyes. Her movement made the doll slip to the floor, and this caused her to come to herself suddenly.

“Why, I fell asleep, didn't I?” she said drowsily, reaching for the doll.

“Yes, and in Mr. Evringham's own chair!” responded Mrs. Forbes.

“They're all his, aren't they?” asked the child.

“Yes, but this is his special favorite, where he always lies to rest. Remember!” returned Mrs. Forbes. “Come right upstairs now and change your dress for dinner. He will be coming home in a few minutes.”

“Oh, good!” exclaimed Jewel with satisfaction, and passed into the house. Mrs. Forbes was following ponderously. “Oh, you don't need to come with me,” protested the child earnestly. “I can do it all myself.”

“Are you sure?” doubtfully.

“Oh, ye—es!” replied the little girl, running lightly up the stairs.

“I ought to put her on the second floor,” mused Mrs. Forbes, “if I've got to be running up and down; but I suppose she has done for herself a great deal. I suppose the mother hadn't time to be bothered. I'd like to make Mamzell change rooms with her.”

Jewel hummed a tune as she took off her sailor suit, performed her ablutions, and then went to her closet to choose a frock for dinner. She decided on a blue dress with white dots chiefly because she would not have to change her hair ribbons. She had never herself tied those voluminous bows.

At last she was ready and danced toward the door, but some novel timidity made her hesitate and go back sedately to the chair by the window. Mrs. Forbes's impressive figure seemed to loom up with an order to her to wait the summons of the gong.

She sat there for what seemed a very long time, and at last a knock sounded at the door. Perhaps grandpa had come up. Jewel flew to open to him—and saw the white capped maid who had appeared at luncheon.

“They are all at table, and Mr. Evringham wishes you to come down,” she said.

“But I was waiting for the gong.”

“We only have that at noon.”

Jewel's feet flew down the stairs. Her grandfather had sent for her. She was eager to reach him, yet when she entered the dining-room, her little face all alight, it was not so easy to run to him as she had fancied.

He sat stiffly at the foot of the table. Opposite him was aunt Madge, and at her left sat the prettiest young lady the child had ever seen.

Mrs. Forbes stood near Mr. Evringham, looking very serious.

Jewel took in all this at a glance, and contenting herself with greeting her grandfather's lifted eyes with a smile, she ran to Mrs. Evringham and turned her back.

“There's just one button in the middle, aunt Madge, that I can't reach,” she explained softly.

Every eye at the table was regarding the child curiously, but she took no note of any one but her grandfather, and her dress buttoned, she ran to her chair and slid up on its smooth morocco. Eloise observed the little girl's loving expression.

“I am sorry you are late, Julia,” said Mr. Evringham.

“Yes, so am I, grandpa,” was the prompt response. “I wanted to be down here as soon as you came home, but I thought I ought to wait for the gong, and then it didn't ring.”

Her eyes roved to where, directly opposite, the beautiful young lady was regarding her soberly.

Mrs. Evringham spoke. “That is your cousin Eloise, Julia.”

Eloise inclined her graceful head, but made no further recognition of the child's admiring look.

“They haven't met before?” said Mr. Evringham, looking from one to the other.

“No,” returned Mrs. Evringham with her most gracious manner. “It just happened that Eloise and I were engaged at luncheon to-day, and when we returned the little girl was taking a nap.”

By this time Mrs. Forbes had brought Jewel's soup and she was eating. She looked up brightly at Mr. Evringham.

“Yes, grandpa, I went to sleep in your big chair on the piazza. I didn't know it was your special chair until Mrs. Forbes waked me up.”

Her grandfather regarded her from under his heavy brows. He was resenting the fact that Eloise had made no effort to welcome the child. “Indeed?” he returned. “What did she wake you up for?”

“Because it was time to get ready for dinner,” returned Jewel. “It reminded me of the story of Golden Hair, when she had gone to sleep on the bear's bed, the way Mrs. Forbes said, 'This is your grandfather's chair!'”

She looked around the table, expectant of sympathy. Only Mrs. Evringham seemed to wish to laugh, and she was making heroic efforts not to do so. Lovely Eloise kept her serious eyes downcast.

“Ha!” ejaculated Mr. Evringham, after a lightning glance of suspicion at his daughter-in-law. “I think I remember something about that. But Golden Hair tried three beds, I believe.”

“Yes, she did, but you see there wasn't any little bear's chair on the piazza.”

“Very true. Very true.”

“Golden Hair was a great beauty, I believe,” suggested Mrs. Evringham, looking at the child oddly. “She had yellow hair like yours.”

Jewel put up a quick hand to the short tight braid which ended behind her ear. “Oh no, long, lovely, floating hair. Don't you remember?”

“It's a good while since I read it,” returned Mrs. Evringham, laughing low and glancing at Eloise. Her father-in-law sent her a look of displeasure and turned back to Jewel.

“Dr. Ballard found you on the train, I suppose?”

“Yes, grandpa. We had a nice time. He is a very kind man.” The child glanced across at her cousin again. She wished cousin Eloise would lift her eyes and not look so sorry. “I wonder,” she added aloud, “why Dr. Ballard called cousin Eloise a little girl.”

No one spoke, so Mrs. Evringham broke the momentary silence. “Did he?” she asked.

“Yes, he said that my cousin Eloise was a very charming little girl.”

Jewel wondered why Eloise flushed and looked still sorrier, and why aunt Madge raised her napkin and turned her laugh into a cough. Perhaps it teased young ladies to be called little girls. Jewel regretted having mentioned it.

“I guess he was just April-fooling me,” she suggested comfortingly, and the insistence of her soft gaze was such that Eloise looked up and met a smile so irresistible, that in spite of herself, her expression relaxed.

The softened look was a relief to the child. “I've heard about you, of course, cousin Eloise,” she said, “and I couldn't forget, because your name is so nice and—and slippery. Eloise Evringham. Eloise Evringham. It sounds just like—like—oh, like sliding down the banisters. Don't you think so?”

Eloise smiled a little. “I hadn't thought of it,” she returned, then relapsed into quiet.

Mrs. Forbes's countenance was stony. “Children should be seen and not heard,” was her doctrine, and this dressmaker's child had an assurance beyond belief. She seemed to feel no awe whatever in her grandfather's presence.

The housekeeper caught Jewel's eye and gave her such a quenching look that thenceforward the little girl succumbed to the silence which the others seemed to prefer.

After dinner she would have a good visit with grandpa and talk about when father was a little boy. Her hopes were dashed, for just as they were rising from the table, a man was announced, with whom Mr. Evringham closeted himself in the library.

In the drawing-room aunt Madge and cousin Eloise both set themselves at letter-writing, and entirely ignored Jewel. The child looked listlessly at a book with pictures, which she found on the table, until half-past eight, when Mrs. Forbes came to say it was time for her to go to bed.

She rose and stood a moment, turning hesitatingly from her aunt to her cousin.

“Oh, is it bedtime?” asked aunt Madge, looking up from her letter. “Good-night, Julia. I hope you'll sleep well.” Then she returned to her writing.

Eloise bit her lip as she regarded the little girl with a moment's hesitation, but no, she had decided on her plan of action. Mrs. Forbes was observing her. Eloise knew the housekeeper's attitude toward them was defensive, if not offensive. “Good-night,” she said briefly, and looked down again.

“Good-night,” returned Jewel quietly, and went out.

In the hall she hesitated. “I want to say good-night to grandpa,” she said.

“Well, you can't,” returned Mrs. Forbes decidedly. “He is talking business and mustn't be disturbed.”

She followed the child up the staircase.

“I could go to bed alone, if I only knew where the matches are.”

“You said you could dress alone, but you had to ask Mrs. Evringham to button your frock. Remember after this that I am the one to ask. She and Miss Eloise don't want to be bothered.”

“Is it a bother to do a kindness?” asked Jewel in a subdued tone.

“To some folks it is,” was the response. They had reached the door of the child's room; “but some folks can see their duty and do it,” she added virtuously.

Jewel realized regretfully that her present companion belonged to the latter class.

“Now here, right inside the door,” proceeded Mrs. Forbes, “is the switch. There's electricity all over this house, and you don't need any matches. See?” Mrs. Forbes turned the switch and the white room was flooded with light.

A few hours ago this magic would have evoked much enthusiasm. Even now Jewel was pleased to turn the light on and off several times, as Mrs. Forbes told her to do.

“Now I'll see if you can undress yourself,” said the housekeeper. Jewel's deft fingers flew over the buttons in her eagerness to prove her independence. When at last she stood in her little white nightgown, so neat and fine in its small decorations, Mrs. Forbes said, “Do you want me to hear you say your prayers?”

“No, I thank you.” With her hasty response Jewel promptly jumped into the bed, from which the white spread had been removed.

“I hope you always say them,” said Mrs. Forbes, regarding her undecidedly.

“Yes'm, I always do.”

The child cuddled down under the covers with her face to the wall, lest Mrs. Forbes should see a further duty and do it.

“You ought to say them on your knees,” continued the housekeeper.

“I'd just as lief,” replied Jewel, “but I don't believe God cares.”

“Well,” returned Mrs. Forbes solemnly, “it is a matter for your own conscience, Julia, if your mother didn't train you to it. Good-night.”

“Good-night,” came faintly from beneath the bedclothes.

Mrs. Forbes turned off the light and went out, closing the door behind her.

“If she'd always speak when she's spoken to, and be quiet and modest as she is with me, she'd be a very well-behaved child,” she soliloquized. “I could train her. I shouldn't wonder at all if her mother should see a great difference in her when she comes back.”

The housekeeper went heavily downstairs. Jewel, pushing off the bedclothes, listened attentively to the retiring steps, and when they could no longer be heard, she jumped out of bed nimbly, and feeling for the electric switch, turned on the light. Her breath was coming rather unevenly, and she ran over the soft carpet to where her doll lay. Catching her up, she pressed her to her breast, then sitting down in the big chair, she began to undress her, crossing one little bare foot over the other knee to make a lap.

“Darling Anna Belle, did you think I'd forgotten you?” she asked breathlessly. “Did you think you weren't going to have any one to kiss you good-night? It's hard not to have any one you love kiss you good-night.” Jewel dashed her hand across her eyes quickly, then went swiftly on with her work. “You might have known that I was only waiting until that—that giantess went away. She wouldn't let me bring you down to dinner, dearie, but you didn't miss anything. Poor grandpa, I don't wonder any longer that he doesn't look happy. He has the sorriest people all around him that you ever saw. He lives in a big, beautiful castle, but it's Castle Discord. I named it that at dinner. Nobody loves one another. Of course grandpa loves me, because I'm his own little grandchild, but he's too sorry to show it. The beautiful enchanted maiden, and the Error fairy, and the giantess, are all making discord around him. A little flat is better than a big castle, isn't it? We know a flat—let's call it Harmony Flat, Anna Belle. Perhaps if we're very, very, good, we'll get back there some time.” Jewel suddenly pressed the doll's nightdress against her wet eyes. “Don't, don't, dearie! I know it does seem a year since—since the boat this morning. If all the days were as long as this, we'd be very, very old when father and mother come home.” The soft voice broke in a sob. “I don't know what I should do if you weren't a Christian Scientist, Anna Belle. We'll help each other all we can. Now come—come into bed and say your prayers.”

“Say your—your prayer first, dearie,” she whispered, sobbing:—

“Now you'll feel—better, dearie. In a minute you won't be so—homesick for—for—father and mother. Hush, while I say mine.”

Jewel repeated the Lord's Prayer. When she had finished, her breath still caught convulsively, so she continued:—

“Dear Father, Mother, God, loving me, help me to know that I am close to Thee. Help me to remember that things that are unhappy aren't real things. Help me to know that everything is good and harmonious, and that the people in this castle are Thy children, even if they do seem to have eyes like fishes. Help me to love one another, even the giantess, and please show grandpa how to meet error. Please let Dr. Ballard come to see me soon, because he has kind eyes, and I'm sure he doesn't know it's wrong to believe in materia medica. Please take more care of father and mother than anything, and say 'Peace be still' if the wind blows the sea. I know, dear Father in Heaven, that Thou dost not forget anything, but I say it to make me feel better. I am Thy little Jewel, and Anna Belle loves Thee, too. Take us into the everlasting arms of Love while we go to sleep. Amen.”

Jewel brushed away the tears as she ceased, and with her usual quickness of motion, jumped out of bed to get a handkerchief. Turning on the electric light, she went to the chair over which hung the dotted dress. She remembered having slipped a clean handkerchief into its pocket before going to dinner.

In reaching for it her fingers encountered a scrap of paper in the depths of the pocket. She drew it forth. It was folded. She opened it and found it written over in a clear round hand.

“Is my little darling loving every one around her? People do not always seem lovely at first, but remember that every one is lovable because he is a thought of God. Those who seem unlovely are always unhappy, too, in their hearts. We must help them, and the best way to help is to love. Mother is thinking about her little Jewel, and no seas can divide us.”

A slow smile gladdened the child's tear-stained face. She read the message again, then turned out the light for the last time and cuddled down in bed, her warm cheek pressing the scrap of paper in her hand, her breath still catching.

“Mother has spoken to us, Anna Belle,” she whispered, clasping the doll close. “Wasn't it just like God to let her!” Then she fell asleep smiling.

CHAPTER VIII

A HAPPY BREAKFAST

Mrs. Forbes was on the porch next morning when Mr. Evringham returned from his canter.

“Fine morning, Mrs. Forbes,” he said, as he gave Essex Maid into Zeke's hands.

“Very fine. A regular weather breeder. It'll most probably rain to-morrow, and what I wanted to speak to you about, Mr. Evringham, is, that the child hasn't any rubbers.”

“Indeed? What else does she need?”

“Well, nothing that I can see. Her things are all good, and she's got enough of them. The trouble is she says she has never worn rubbers and doesn't want to, and if she gets sick I shall have to take care of her; so I hope, sir, you'll say that she must have them.”

“Not wear them? Of course she must wear them,” returned Mr. Evringham brusquely. “Get them to-day, if convenient, Mrs. Forbes.”

The housekeeper looked relieved.

“I hope she's not making you any trouble, eh?” added Mr. Evringham.

“Not any more than she can help, I suppose,” was the grudging reply. “She's a smart child, and being an only one, she's some notional. She won't eat this and that, and doesn't want to wear rubbers, but she's handy and neat, and is used to doing for herself; her mother hasn't had time to fuss with her, of course, and that's lucky for me. She seems very well behaved, considering.”

Jewel had made heroic efforts while Mrs. Forbes assisted at her morning toilet, and this was her reward.

“Well, we mustn't have you imposed upon,” returned Mr. Evringham, feeling guilty of the situation. “The child must obey you implicitly, implicitly.”

So saying he passed into the house, and after making a change in his toilet, entered the dining-room. There he was seated, deep in his newspaper and waiting for his coffee, when the door opened, light feet ran to him, and an arm was thrown around his neck. He looked up to meet a happy smile, and before he could realize who had captured him, Jewel pressed a fervent kiss upon his cheek.

“Oh, grandpa, how nice and cold your cheek feels! Have you been out doors already?”

Mr. Evringham could feel the said cheek grow hot in surprise at this onslaught. He held himself stiffly and uncomfortably in the encircling arm.

“Yes, I've been out on horseback,” he returned shortly. “I go every morning.”

Jewel's eyes sparkled. “Oh, I'm so glad. Then I can watch you. I love to see anybody ride. When I see a beautiful horse something inside me gets warm. Father says I like just the same things he does. I must let you read your paper, grandpa, but may I say one thing more?”

“Yes.”

“I didn't come last evening to kiss you good-night because you had somebody with you in the library, and, the giant—and Mrs. Forbes wouldn't let me; but I wanted to. You know I wanted to, don't you? I felt all sorry inside because I couldn't. You know you're the only real relation I have in the castle”—Here Mrs. Forbes's entrance with the coffee interrupted the confidence, and Jewel, with a last surreptitious squeeze of Mr. Evringham's neck, intended to finish her sentence eloquently, left him and went to her chair.

“You're to sit here this morning,” said Mrs. Forbes, indicating the place opposite her employer. “Mrs. Evringham and her daughter don't come down to breakfast.”

Jewel looked up eagerly. “Not ever?” she asked.

“Never.”

The child shot a radiant glance across at her grandfather which he caught, the thread of his business calculations having been hopelessly broken. “Oh, grandpa, we're always going to have breakfast alone together!” she said joyously. Noting Mrs. Forbes's set countenance, she added apologetically, “They're so pretty, cousin Eloise and aunt Madge, I love to look at them, but they aren't my real relations, and,” her face gladdening again, “to think of having breakfast alone with you, grandpa, makes me feel as if—as if I had a birthday!”

Mr. Evringham cleared his throat. The situation might have been a little easier if Mrs. Forbes had not been present, but as it was, he had never felt so embarrassed in his life.

“Now eat your oatmeal, Julia,” said the housekeeper repressively. “Mr. Evringham always reads his paper at breakfast.”

“Yes,” replied the child with docility. She poured the cream from a small silver pitcher with a neatness that won Mrs. Forbes's approval; and Mr. Evringham read over headlines in the paper, while he sipped his coffee, without understanding in the least the meaning of the words. Mrs. Forbes was right. Discipline must be maintained. This was the time during which he wished to read his paper, and it was most astonishing to be so vigorously taken possession of by an utter stranger. Now was the time to repress her if she were to be repressed. Mrs. Forbes was right. After a while he glanced across at the child. She looked very small and clean, and she was ready with a quick smile for him; but she put a little forefinger against her lips jocosely. He cleared his throat again and averted his eyes, rumpling the paper as he turned a leaf.

Mrs. Forbes left the room with the oatmeal dishes.

Jewel leaned forward quickly. “Grandpa,” she said earnestly, “if you would declare every day, over and over, that no error could come near your house, I think she would go away of her own accord.”

Mr. Evringham stared, open paper in hand. “What? Who?”

“Mrs. Forbes.”

“Go away? Mrs. Forbes? What are you thinking of! I couldn't get on without Mrs. Forbes.”

“Oh!” Jewel leaned back with the long-drawn exclamation. “I thought she was what made you look sorry.”

“No indeed. I have enough things to make me sorry, but she isn't one of them.”

“Do you like her?” wonderingly.

“I—why—I respect her profoundly.”

“Oh! It must be lots easier to respect her pro—the way you do, than to like her; but,” with firm lips, “I've got to love her. I told Anna Belle so this morning, and especially if you want her to stay.”

“Bless my soul!” Mr. Evringham looked in dismay as his vis-à-vis. “You must be very careful, Julia, not to offend or trouble her in any way,” he said.

“All right, grandpa, I will, and then will you do me a favor too?”

“I must hear it first.”

“Would you mind calling me Jewel? You know it isn't any matter about the rest, because they're not my real relations, but Julia is mother's name, and Jewel is mine; and when I love people very much, I like them to call me Jewel.”

Mrs. Forbes here entered with a tray, and Mr. Evringham merely said, “Very well,” twice over, and retreated into his newspaper.

On the tray were boiled eggs. Jewel glanced quickly up at Mrs. Forbes's impassive face. She might have remembered. Probably she did remember.

Life had not taught the child to be shy, as has been evidenced; so although Mrs. Forbes was an awing experience, she felt strong in the presence of her important grandfather, and only kept silence now in order not to interrupt his reading.

When at last he laid down his paper and began to chip an egg, Jewel glanced at those which Mrs. Forbes had set before her. Her little face had grown very serious.

“Grandpa, do you think it's error for me not to like eggs?” she asked. “Mother never said it was. She was willing I should eat something else.”

“Of course, eat whatever you like,” responded Mr. Evringham quickly.

Mrs. Forbes seemed to swell and grow pink. “You always have eggs, sir, and if there's two breakfasts to be got, will you kindly tell me what the other shall be?”

Mr. Evringham glanced up in some surprise at the unfamiliar tone.

“Oh, the oatmeal is a plenty,” said Jewel, looking at the housekeeper, eager to mollify her.

“Try an egg. Perhaps you'll like them by this time,” suggested Mr. Evringham.

“Do you like everything to eat, grandpa?”

Mr. Evringham, being most arbitrary and peculiar in his tastes, could only gain time by clearing his throat again, and taking a drink of coffee.

“Mrs. Forbes will bring you a glass of milk, I dare say,” he returned at last, without looking up; and the housekeeper turned with ponderous obedience and left the room.

Nimbly Jewel slid down from her chair, and running around the table to her grandfather's place, put both her arms around his neck and whispered to him eagerly and swiftly, “If you have such a pro—something respect for Mrs. Forbes, and it makes her sorry because I won't eat eggs, perhaps I ought to. If it offends thy brother to have you eat meat, you mustn't, the Bible says, so I suppose, if it makes Mrs. Forbes turn red and perhaps get the stomach ache to have me not eat eggs, I ought to; but grandpa, if you decide I must, please let me wait till to-morrow morning, so I can say the Scientific Statement of Being all day—”

Here Mrs. Forbes entered with a glass of milk on a little tray. She stood transfixed at the sight that met her.

“That child hasn't the fear of man before her eyes!” she ejaculated mentally, then she marched forward and deposited the milk beside Jewel's empty plate, while the child ran back and took her seat.

Mr. Evringham, gazing at his visitor in mute astonishment, was much disconcerted to receive a confiding gesture of raised shoulders and eyebrows, which, combined with a little smile, plainly signified that they had been caught. He took up his newspaper mechanically.

He had never had a daughter, and caresses had seldom passed between him and his children. His duties as a family man had always been perfunctory. He was tingling now from the surprise of Jewel's action, the feeling of the little gingham clad arms about his neck, the touch of the rose-leaf skin as she swept his cheek and ear in her emphatic half-whisper.

His mental processes were stiff when the subject related to things apart from the stock market, his horses, and golf, but he was finally understanding that his granddaughter had come to Bel-Air, prepared by accounts which had cast a glamour over everything and everybody in it. She had evidently found Mrs. Forbes fall below her expectations. He had been disillusioned concerning Mrs. Evringham and Eloise. As yet the halo with which he himself had been invested was intact. Was it to remain so? He still saw how foolish he had been to send for the child. He still wished, of course, that she was in Chicago now, instead of sitting across there from him in crisp short skirts, her head and shoulders only showing above the high table, and a little smile of good understanding waiting for him each time he looked up.

He had done very well during a lifetime without being hugged, yet the innocent incense, which had been rising spontaneously before him ever since the child entered the dining-room, had a strangely sweet savor. Such was the joy of breakfast alone with him that it made her feel as if she had a birthday! Perfectly absurd! Quite the most absurd thing that he had ever heard in his life.

Mrs. Forbes spoke. “Perhaps it is to be the same way about the rubbers, Mr. Evringham!” she said, much flushed. “Perhaps you will not insist upon Julia wearing rubbers!”

“Oh yes, yes, certainly,” returned Mr. Evringham hastily, anxious to reinstate himself. “I wish you to have a pair of rubbers at once, Julia—Jewel. You surely don't mean that your mother has allowed you to wet your feet.”

“I—I never noticed, grandpa, but,” hopefully, “she lets me wet my hands, so why not my feet?”

“Bless me, what ignorance! Because the soles of your feet have large pores through which to catch cold. Hasn't any one ever told you that?”

Jewel smiled. “That would be a queer arrangement for God to make, don't you think?” she asked softly. “Just as if He expected us to walk on our hands.”

Mrs. Forbes's eyes widened, and an irrepressible “Well!” escaped from her lips. “Has that young one reverence for anything in heaven above or earth beneath?” she queried mentally.

Mr. Evringham managed to recover himself sufficiently to say, “You shouldn't speak so, Jewel.”

“But you know how it was about the tree of knowledge, grandpa,” replied the child earnestly. “God told Adam not to eat of it, because then he'd believe in good and evil, and that always makes such lots and lots of trouble. The Indians don't have to wear rubbers.”

“Drink your milk, Jewel,” returned Mr. Evringham uncomfortably, not having the temerity to lift his eyes as high as his housekeeper's countenance. “No matter about the Indians. You are a civilized little girl, and you must wear rubbers while you live with me. Mrs. Forbes will very kindly buy them for you.”

“Oh, I have money,” returned Jewel brightly. “I have three dollars,” she added, trying not to say it boastfully. “Fifty cents for every week father and mother are going to be away.”

Mr. Evringham wiped his mustache. “You need not spend any of it for the rubbers,” he returned. “You are buying those to please me.”

“I shall love to wear them to please you, grandpa,” she returned affectionately. “I'll put them on every time I can think of it.”

“Only when it is wet, of course,” he said. “When it is rainy.”

“Oh yes,” she returned, “when it's rainy.”

“Harry looked like my father, and she does, by Jove,” mused Mr. Evringham. “She's like me. Knows what she wants to eat, and cares for a horse, if she is a strange little being.”

“You say you like horses?” he remarked suddenly.

“I just love them,” answered Jewel, “and I came real close to them once. Father took me to the horse show.”

“He did, eh?”

“Yes, he told mother he was going to blow me to it.” The child laughed. “Father's the greatest joker; he says the funniest things. He didn't blow me to it at all. He took me in the cable car, and we had more fun! It was the most be—eautiful place you ever saw.”

“It was, eh?”

“Yes. The music was playing, and there were coaches and four-in-hands and horns and men in red coats and beautiful little shiny carriages—and the horses! Oh, they all looked so proud and glad, and they trotted and ran and jumped over high fences, and the harness jingled and the people cheered!” The child's cheeks were glowing.

Mr. Evringham gave an exclamation that was almost a laugh. “You didn't sleep much that night, I'll wager!”

“No, I didn't want to. I stayed awake a long time to realize that God doesn't love one of His children any better than another, so of course some time I'll wear a tall shiny hat and ride over fences just like flying. I'll have a horse,” Jewel added slowly, looking off with a rapt expression as at a long-cherished vision, “with a white star in his forehead!”

“H'm! Very good taste,” returned Mr. Evringham, scarcely knowing what he was saying, so dazed was he by the extraordinary mixture of ideas.

After breakfast he had his usual interview with Mrs. Forbes concerning the important event of dinner. Jewel had run upstairs to dress Anna Belle.

The menu decided upon, Mr. Evringham still lingered.

“Mrs. Forbes, I have never had any experience with little girls. You have, no doubt,” he said. “Am I right in thinking that my granddaughter is—is a rather unusual specimen?”

“She's older than Dick's hatband, sir,” rejoined the housekeeper promptly.

“Are they, perhaps, teaching differently in the schools from what they used to?”

“Not that I know of, Mr. Evringham.”

“She uses very unusual expressions. I can't make it out. You are an intelligent woman, Mrs. Forbes. Did you ever happen to hear of such a thing as the—a—a—Scientific Statement of Being!”

“Never in my life, sir,” returned the housekeeper virtuously.

“Extraordinary language that, from a—a child of her years. She seems to have been peculiarly brought up. You heard her reference to—in fact to—the Creator.”

“I did, sir. At the breakfast table, too! I was as shocked as you were, sir. Her mother put a Bible into her trunk, but it's plain she never taught her any reverence. The Almighty give her a jumping horse indeed! If you'll excuse me, Mr. Evringham, I think you should have said something right there.”

The broker pulled his mustache. “I've listened to more unreasonable views of heaven,” he returned.

“Do you think it was heaven she was talking about!”

Mr. Evringham shrugged his shoulders. “You can't prove anything by me. She's the most extraordinary child I ever listened to.”

Mrs. Forbes pursed her lips. “You'd not believe, sir, how differently she behaves when she is alone with me. As mild-mannered and quiet as you'd wish to see anywhere. She scarcely speaks a word.”

Mr. Evringham bit his lip and nodded. It gave him some amusement in the midst of his perplexity to remember the manner in which he had been advised to exorcise this tower of strength altogether.

“It's my opinion, sir, that children should be made to eat what is set before them,” went on Mrs. Forbes, reverting to her principal grievance.

“It would save you a lot of trouble if I had been trained that way—eh, Mrs. Forbes?” returned the other, with extraordinary lightness.

“You are a very different thing, I should hope!” exclaimed Mrs. Forbes solemnly.

“Yes, about fifty years different. Hard to teach an old dog new tricks, eh? You might have some chops for her luncheon, perhaps, and an extra one for her breakfast. She hasn't eaten anything this morning.”

For the first time an order from Mr. Evringham evoked no reply from his housekeeper. He felt the weight of her disapproval. “But get the overshoes by all means, as soon as convenient,” he made haste to add. “Ring for Zeke, if you please, Mrs. Forbes. I must be off.”