Jewel: A Chapter in Her Life

The girl in the white dress did not sing. She swallowed often. The voice of the child at her side soared easily.

What a haven of promise and peace seemed this sunny, simple place of purity.

Jewel, looking up at her companion, was surprised to see her lashes wet and her lower lip caught between her teeth.

“What's the matter, cousin Eloise?” she whispered softly as they sat down.

The girl tried to smile. Words were not at her command. “Gladness,” she returned briefly; which reply caused Jewel to meditate for some time.

They had a talk with Nat and were presented to the Reeves family after church, and Eloise felt herself in an atmosphere of love.

Jewel left the group for a private word to Zeke before her cousin should come to enter the brougham. 'Zekiel sat bolt upright in the most approved style, and did not turn his face, even when the child addressed him.

“I've been wondering this morning,” she said, “how we can manage for you to come to church, 'Zekiel.”

“Oh, I have it six times a week,” returned the coachman.

“But it's so lovely just to listen to them read and not have to hunt up the places or anything.”

“I'm satisfied with my minister,” returned Zeke, almost smiling.

Eloise and Mr. Bonnell came out to the carriage, so there was no further time for talk.

The subject remained in Jewel's mind, however. On Wednesday morning, just before Mr. Evringham went to the station, the child seized him in the hall.

“Grandpa, don't you think it would be nice to go in the trolley car to church to-night?”

“To—where?” asked the broker, frowning.

“This is the night we're going to church, you know.”

“The dev—Ah, to be sure. So we are. Well—a—what did you say? Trolley car? Why?”

“Well, we could all go then, you know,” returned Jewel. “Cousin Eloise wants to go, but,” the child's honesty compelled her, “she wouldn't have to go with us because it is Mr. Bonnell's last night in Bel-Air, and I heard him ask if he might come for her; but I do so want Zeke to go, grandpa!”

“Well, for the love of”—began the broker slowly.

“Yes, Zeke is getting to understand a good deal about Christian Science. He has some claims of error that his mother knows about, and they make her sorry, and I've been helping him and reading to him out of my books, and I do want him to go to the testimonial meeting so much.”

The child looked wistfully up into the dark eyes that rested upon her. Mr. Evringham had remarked his housekeeper's change of spirit toward the little girl, had wondered at the increasing and even reckless indulgence of Anna Belle, who from being an exile in the stair closet had now arrived at a degree of consideration and pampering which threatened to turn her head.

“Jewel,” he said impressively, “I wish you to understand one thing distinctly. You are not now or at any future time to try to make a Christian Scientist of Essex Maid.”

From wondering sobriety Jewel's lips broke into a gleeful smile. “I don't have to,” she cried triumphantly. “She is one! Anyway, she has demonstrated everything a horse ought to!”

Mr. Evringham flung his hands over his head despairingly. “Great heavens!” he exclaimed tragically, rushing out to the brougham, Jewel at his heels in peals of laughter.

But they went to church in the trolley car. Eloise reached the same place with Mr. Bonnell, but whether she walked or drove or rode nobody ever knew, and it didn't matter much, for a full moon illumined the night.

Early in the evening a young man entered the hall quietly and took a back seat. It was Zeke.

Mr. Reeves saw Jewel and her grandfather come in, and softly he smote his knee. “She's done it!” he ejaculated mentally. He noted the broker's haughty carriage, the half challenging glances he threw to right and left as he proceeded up the aisle to the position of Jewel's choice.

Mr. Reeves composed his countenance with some difficulty, and catching the wandering eye, gave his friend a grave bow.

Testimonial meetings differ in point of continued interest. This proved to be a good one. The most interesting narrative of the evening was Nat Bonnell's. His self possession, fine presence, and good voice made more effective the marvelous story of his mother's resurrection to strength. He told it with dignity and directness, and Mr. Evringham was impressed.

“What's my rheumatism to that, eh, Jewel?” he whispered, as Nat sat down.

“Just nothing, grandpa,” replied the child.

“You think the Creator'd consider me worth attending to, eh?”

“God doesn't know you have the rheumatism,” exclaimed Jewel with soft scorn.

“Doesn't? Well! I've always supposed He thought I needed reminding on account of a number of things, and so touched me up with that. I didn't blame Him much.

“If He knew it, it would be real, and then it couldn't be changed,” returned Jewel earnestly in the ear he bent to her.

The broker sat up and looked down on her large hat and short legs. “Whew, but I'm a back number!” he mused.

The next testimonial made Jewel's eyes brighten. It was given by a man who told a story of hopeless intemperance and his family's want. The unaffected humility and gratitude that sounded in his voice as he described the changed conditions which followed his cure caused the roses to deepen in Jewel's cheeks. She wondered where Zeke was sitting.

Altogether she was happy over the meeting, and her grandfather's attitude was as kindly as could have been expected.

Eloise came into her mother's room that night, beaming.

“I wish you had come with us,” she said. “It was wonderful.”

Mrs. Evringham turned to her with a lofty air. “I have too much loyalty to friendship to be seen in such a place,” she returned.

“Nat said he wouldn't ask you to come down to bid him good-by, because he expects to come out to spend Sundays for a while.”

Mrs. Evringham looked at her daughter. All the girl's face had lacked of vivacity and happy expression it wore now, making her radiant.

“You could never guess the news I have for you, mother.”

Mrs. Evringham's lips tightened. “Eloise, if you will not marry the fine man who had my entire approval, it will be outrageous for you to marry an ineligible, a young fellow whose goods are all in the show window, who has not proved himself in any way. I refuse to hear your news,” she returned impetuously.

The girl laughed. “Do you mean Nat, dear?” she asked, her rosy face coming close. “I'm afraid he's going to spoil himself by becoming eligible. He has been telling me a lot about the business to-night.”

“Ho! Nat Bonnell could always talk.”

Eloise's arms closed around her. “There's only one source of supply, mother. Nat has found Him. I am finding Him. We shall not want. What do you think I have here for you? Grandfather gave it to me.” Eloise put into her mother's hands a draft for a thousand dollars.

Mr. Evringham appeared to lose sight of the dagger she had been seeing before her for days. “What is this?” she ejaculated. “A present from father?”

“Not at all. Some unknown man owed it to papa, and his conscience made him pay the debt. It came in grandfather's evening mail, and he has only just opened it.”

Mrs. Evringham examined the paper eagerly.

“How wonderful!” she exclaimed.

“How natural,” returned Eloise. “That is the wonderful part of it.”

CHAPTER XXVII

A REALIZED HOPE

One afternoon Mr. Evringham did not return from the city at the usual time. Jewel, watching for him, was surprised after a while to see him walking up from the gate.

“Why, what's happened?” she asked. “Zeke went for you.”

“Yes; but he found he had to leave Dick to be shod.”

“Then are you going to saddle Essex Maid yourself? Oh, can I see you do it, grandpa?” She hopped with anticipation.

“I don't know that I'll ride just now. It's an excellent day for walking. It seems rather strange to me, Jewel, that you've never shown me the Ravine of Happiness. You talk a good deal about it.”

“Oh, would you like to come?” cried the child, flushing. “Good! I have the pond all fixed in Anna Belle's garden, and the ferns droop over it just like a fairy story.”

“Have you put up a sign for the fairies to keep out?”

“No—o,” returned Jewel, drawing in her chin and smiling.

“Oh well, you may be sure they're at it, then, every moonlight night. They haven't a particle of respect, you know, for anything. If I were in Anna Belle's place, I should put up a sign, 'Private Grounds.'”

“Oh, she's so unselfish she wouldn't. If they only won't break the flowers she won't care,” returned the child, entering into the fancy with zest.

Mr. Evringham took the doll from her arms, and carrying it up the steps deposited it in the piazza chair.

“Isn't she going?” asked Jewel soberly.

“No, not this time. She doesn't care, she's been there so much. Just see how cheerful and comfortable she looks!”

There was, indeed, a smile of almost cloying sweetness on Anna Belle's countenance, and she seemed to be seeing pleasing visions.

“I never saw such a good child!” said Jewel with an admiring sigh; then she put her hand in her grandfather's and they strolled out into the park and up the shady road. Just before reaching the bend around which lay the gorge, Mr. Evringham surprised his companion by breaking in upon her lively chatter with a tune which he whistled loudly.

It was such an unusual ebullition that Jewel looked up at him. “Why, grandpa, I never heard you whistle before,” she said.

“You didn't? That's because you never before saw me out on a lark. I tell you, I'm a gay one when I get started,” and forthwith there burst again from his lips a gay refrain, that sounded shrilly up the leafy path. They rounded the bend in the road, and the broker looked down into the eyes that were bent upon him in admiration.

“You whistle almost as well as Mr. Bonnell,” said the child.

“Give me time and I dare say I shall beat him out,” was the swaggering response. “Ah, here's your ravine, is it?”

“Yes, that's”—began Jewel, and went no further.

A couple of rods from where she suddenly came to a standstill was an object which for a moment rooted her to the spot. A small horse, black as jet, with a white star in his forehead and a flowing, wavy mane and tail, stood by the roadside. His coat, gleaming like satin, set off the pure white leather of his trappings. On his back was fastened a side saddle, and he was tethered to the rail of the light fence.

Mr. Evringham appeared not to see him. He was looking down the rocks and grass of the steep incline.

“Is there any sort of a path?” he asked, “or do you descend it as you would a cellar door? I think you might have told me, so I could change these light trousers.”

“Grandpa!” exclaimed Jewel in a hushed tone, pointing before her. “See that horse—just like the coal black steed the princess rides in a fairy story.”

“Why, that's so. He is a beauty. Where do you suppose the princess is?”

“She's probably gone down the ravine,” returned the child, her feet drawn forward as if by a magnet. “Let's not go down yet.”

The broker allowed himself to be led close to the pony, who turned his full bright eyes upon the pair curiously.

“Do you think I might touch him, grandpa?” asked the child, still in the hushed voice.

“If he's a fairy horse he might vanish,” returned Mr. Evringham. “Let's see how he stands it.” So saying he gave the shining flank some sturdy love pats. “Oh, he's all right. He's good substantial flesh and blood.”

“But the lady,” said Jewel, looking about, the pupils of her eyes dilated with excitement.

“Oh, I don't think a very big lady has been riding in that saddle. You can do as you'd be done by, I fancy.”

Upon this Jewel stroked the pony over and over lovingly, and he nosed about her in a friendly way.

“Grandpa, see him, see him! And oh grandpa, see his beautiful star, white as a snowflake!”

“Well, upon my word, if this isn't lucky,” remarked Mr. Evringham. “Here is some sugar in my pocket, now.” He passed some lumps to the child.

“Would it be right?” she asked, glancing down the ravine. “Had I better wait till the girl comes up?”

“She won't mind, I'll wager,” returned Mr. Evringham; so the child, thus encouraged, fed the coal black steed, who, for all his poetical appearance, had evidently a strongly developed sweet tooth.

“Hello, what's this!” exclaimed the broker, stepping to the fence and taking up something black and folded. When he shook it out, it proved to be a child's riding skirt.

“She's left it there,” said Jewel eagerly. “We ought not to touch it. It's very hard on clothes going down the ravine, and she's left it there. Don't you think, grandpa, you ought to put it back?” for to her great surprise her punctilious and particular relative was shaking the fine skirt about recklessly and examining it.

“Here's a name,” he said, bringing his prize to Jewel and showing her an oblong bit of white cloth, much as tailors use inside dresses. “What do you make of it?”

The child, disturbed by such daring, and dreading to see the owner of these splendid possessions scramble up the bank, looked reluctantly.

The name was a long one, but so familiar that she recognized it at once. “Evringham.”

She lifted her eyes to her grandfather. “It's the same as ours.”

“There isn't another Evringham in Bel-Air,” returned the broker. “The fairies dropped this for you, I guess, Jewel. It certainly won't fit me. Let's try it on.”

He slipped it over the head of the dazed child and hooked it around her waist.

“'It fitted her exactly,'” murmured Jewel. “They always say so in fairy stories.

“Look here,” said her grandfather. He put his hand into the stirrup and drew out a folded bit of paper. He handed it to the child, who began to wonder if she was dreaming.

DEAR JEWEL (she read),—I believe you expected Divine Love to send you a horse. I have come to belong to you, and my name is STAR.

It was astonishing what a large, round penmanship the pony possessed. There was no possibility of mistaking a word.

Jewel read the note over twice as she stood there, the long, scant skirt, making her look tall. Mr. Evringham stood watching her. His part in the comedy was played. He waited.

She looked up at him with eyes that seemed trying to comprehend a fact too large.

“Grandpa, have you given me this horse?” she asked solemnly, and he could see her hands beginning to tremble.

“Oh, am I to get some credit for this?” returned the broker, smiling and twisting his mustache. “I didn't expect that.”

He knew her lack of motion would not last long, and was bracing himself for the attack when, to his surprise, she pulled up the impeding skirt and made a rush, not for him, but for the pony. Hiding her face on the creature's satin shoulder, she flung her arm around his throat, and seizing his rippling mane, sobbed as if her heart would break.

Mr. Evringham had not spent weeks in selecting and testing a horse for his granddaughter without choosing one whose nervous system would be proof against sudden assaults of affection; but this onslaught was so energetic that the pony tossed his head and backed to the end of his tether.

His new mistress stumbled after him, her face still hidden. She was trying heroically to stifle the sobs that were shaking her from head to foot.

“Jewel, Jewel, child!” ejaculated her grandfather, much dismayed. “Come, come, what's this?”

He drew her with a strong hand, and she deserted the pony, much to the latter's relief, and clasping Mr. Evringham as high up as she could reach, began bedewing his vest buttons with her tears.

“Oh, gra—grandpa, I c—can't have him!” she sobbed. “There isn't any roo—room for him in our—our fla—fla—flat!”

“Well, did you expect to keep him in the flat?” inquired Mr. Evringham, stooping tenderly, his own eyes shining suspiciously, as he put his arms around the little shaking form.

“N—no; but we—we haven't any bar—barn.”

The broker smiled above the voluminous, quivering bows.

“Well, hasn't some good livery man in your neighborhood a stable?”

“Ye—yes.” Jewel made greater efforts to stop crying. “But I—I talked with mo—mother once about cou—could I ha—have a horse sometime before I grew up, and she said she might buy the horse, but it would cost so much—much money every week to board it, it would be error.”

Mr. Evringham patted the heaving shoulder.

“Ah, but you don't know yet all about your horse. In some respects I've never seen a pony like him.”

“I—I never have,” returned the child.

“Oh, but you'll be surprised at this. This pony has a bank account.”

Jewel slowly grew quiet.

“Nobody has to pay for his board and clothes. He is very independent. He would have it that way.”

“Grandpa!” came in muffled tones from the broker's vest.

“So don't you think you'd better cheer up and look at him once more, and tell him you won't cry on his shoulder very often?”

In a minute Jewel looked up, revealing her swollen eyes. “I'm ashamed,” she said softly, “but he was—so—be—autiful—I forgot to remember.”

“Well, I guess you did forget to remember,” returned Mr. Evringham, shaking his head and leading the child to her pony's side.

He lifted her into the saddle and arranged her skirt, brushing away the dust.

“Grandpa!” she exclaimed softly, with a long, quivering sigh, “I'm so happy!”

“Have you ever ridden, Jewel?”

“Oh, yes, a thousand times,” she answered quickly; “but not on a real horse,” she added as an afterthought.

“H'm. That might make a difference.” Mr. Evringham loosed the pony and put the white bridle in the child's hands; then he led the pretty creature down the woodland road.

“I'm so happy,” repeated Jewel. “What will mother and father say!”

“You'll be a regular circus rider by the time they come home.”

As the broker spoke these words Zeke appeared around the bend in the road, riding Essex Maid. His face was alight with interest in the sight that met him.

Jewel called to him radiantly. “Oh, Zeke, what do you think?”

“I think it's great,” he responded. “Hello, little kid,” he said, as he came nearer and perceived the signs in the child's face. “Pony do any harm, Mr. Evringham?” he asked with respectful concern.

“No; Jewel cried a little, but it was only because I told her she could not sleep nights in Star's manger.”

The child gave one look of astonishment at the speaker's grave countenance, and then shouted with a laugh as spontaneous as though no tear had ever fallen from her shining eyes.

“See Essex Maid look at my pony, grandpa!” she said joyously. “She looks so proud and stuck up.”

“Look away, my lady,” said the broker. “You'll see a great deal more of this young spring before you see less.”

Zeke dismounted.

“Now then,” Mr. Evringham looked up at the child. “I'm going to let go your bridle.”

“I want you to,” she answered gayly.

Mr. Evringham mounted his horse. “We'll take a sedate walk through the woods,” he said. “Zeke, you might lead her a little way.”

“No, no, please,” begged the child. “I know how to ride. I do.”

“Well, let her go then,” smiled the broker, and Essex Maid trotted slowly, noting with haughty bright eyes the little black companion, who might have stepped out of a picture book, but whose easy canter was tossing Jewel at every step.

“I haven't—any—whip!” The words were bounced out of the child's lips, and Mr. Evringham's laugh resounded along the avenue.

“I believe she'd use it,” he said to Zeke, who was running along beside the black pony.

“I guess she would, sir,” grinned the young fellow responsively.

It was not many days before Jewel had learned to stay in the saddle. She had an efficient teacher who worked with her con amore, and the sight of the erect, gray-haired man on his famous mare, always accompanied by the rosy little girl on a black pony, came to be a familiar sight in Bel-Air, and one which people always turned to follow with their eyes.

Eloise had her talk with Mr. Evringham one evening when Jewel was excluded from the library, and she emerged from the interview with a more contented heart than she had known for a year.

She endeavored to convey the situation to her mother in detail, but when that lady had learned that there were no happy surprises, she declined to listen.

“Tastes differ, Eloise,” she said. “I am one who believes that where ignorance is bliss 'tis folly to be wise.” Mrs. Evringham had regained a quite light-hearted appearance in the interest of expending a portion of her windfall on her own and Eloise's summer wardrobe.

“Well, you shan't be bothered then,” returned her daughter. “You have me to take care of our money matters.”

“I prefer to let father do it,” returned Mrs. Evringham decidedly. “He is a changed being of late, and we are as well situated as we could hope to be. I don't feel quite satisfied with the lining of the brougham, but some day I mean to speak of it.”

Eloise threw up both hands, but she laughed. She and her grandfather had an excellent understanding, and she knew that the mills of the gods were about to grind.

One evening the broker called his daughter-in-law into the library.

“I hope it isn't on business,” she remarked flippantly as she entered. “I tell you right at the start, father, I can't understand it.” Her eyes wandered about the room curiously. It was strange to her. She took up a woman's picture from the desk. “Who is this?” she asked.

“How do you like the face?” he returned.

The dark eyes and sweet mouth looked back at her. She frowned slightly. She did not like the situation in which she had found the photograph. It was far too intimate for a stranger, and made her a little nervous.

“If he is going to marry again, then good-by indeed!” she thought.

“I think it is rather sentimental,” she returned, with an air of engaging candor, “don't you? Just my first impression, you know; but it's a face I shouldn't trust. Who is it?”

“It is Jewel's mother,” returned the broker quietly, “my daughter Julia. Jewel brought it down last night, also a lot of little letters her mother had put in the pockets of the child's dresses when she packed them.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Mrs. Evringham triumphantly. “Didn't I say she was sentimental? About that sort of thing my perceptions are always so keen.”

“H'm. I read the letters, and I judged from them that one can trust her. Will you be seated?” He placed a chair. “I should like to ask your plans for the summer.”

Mrs. Evringham looked up quickly, startled. “Oh, I haven't any. Have you?”

“Yes. I always seek some cool spot. You have an invitation to View Point, I understand. You could scarcely do better.”

“I have reasons, father,” impressively, “reasons for declining that.”

“Then where are you going?”

“I would just as lief stay here and take care of your house as not,” declared the lady magnanimously.

“Ha! Without any servants?”

“Why, what do you mean?”

“They are going away for a vacation. I am intending to have the house wired, and Mrs. Forbes and Zeke will hold sway in the barn. She doesn't wish to leave him.”

Mrs. Evringham was silenced and dismayed. She felt herself being firmly and inexorably pushed out of this well-lined nest.

Her eyes fell before the impenetrable ones regarding her.

“How did Jewel ever win him?” she thought. The picturesque pony, with his arched neck and expensive trappings, had outraged her feelings for days.

“About the View Point plan,” continued Mr. Evringham deliberately. “I think there are influences waiting for you there that will be of benefit. There is a new philosophy percolating in these days through our worldly rubbish which you and I would be the better for grasping. Your chances are better than mine, for you are young still. Your daughter is expanding like a flower already, in the first rays of her understanding of it. This young man whom you fancy you can avoid is a help to her. Mr. Reeves was talking to me about him last night. He says that so far as his business is concerned, young Bonnell is proving the square peg in the square hole. I don't know what Eloise's sentiments are toward him, but I do know that she shall be independent of any one's financial help but mine.”

Mrs. Evringham lifted her eyes hopefully.

“I shall eke out the little income which is left to you with sufficient for you to live—not as you have done—but comfortably.”

The eager light faded from his listener's eyes.

“Eloise and I have arranged that,” he continued, “and she is satisfied. Take my advice, Madge. Go to View Point.”

“I suppose Eloise doesn't need horses so long as Jewel has them,” said Mrs. Evringham rising.

Her host followed her example. “She thinks not,” he returned concisely; then he opened the library door, and his daughter-in-law swept from his presence with all the dignity she could muster.

CHAPTER XXVIII

AT TWILIGHT

It was Sunday, and Mr. Bonnell was dining at Bel-Air Park. Had Jewel thought of it, she might have contrasted the expression of Mrs. Forbes's face as she waited at table this evening with the look it wore on the day she first arrived; might have noted the cheerful flow of talk which enlivened the board, in distinction from the stiff silence or bitter repartee which once chilled her. As she responded to the smiles hovering now about Eloise's lovely lips, she might have remembered the once sombre sadness of those eyes. Even Mrs. Evringham had buried the Macbethian dagger, and wore the meek and patient air of one misunderstood; but nothing would have amazed the child so much as to be told that she had had anything to do with this metamorphosis.

Anna Belle,—deserted often now, perforce, on account of the pony, whose life was a strenuous one, owing to the variety of Jewel's attentions,—Anna Belle was petted with extra fondness when her turn came; and she sat at table now in a pleasing trance, her smile an impartial benediction upon all.

It had been a glorious June day, the park was at its best. After dinner the family strolled out toward the piazza.

Mrs. Forbes had attended her own Baptist church that morning, and the familiar Sunday-school tune that the children sang floated through her mind as she looked after the group.

“What is Mr. Evringham going to do without that child?” she thought.

The broker was invaded with the same problem as Jewel lingered with him on the piazza, while the others walked on toward a seat beneath a spreading maple.

He ensconced himself in his favorite chair. The thrushes were singing vespers. The pure air was faintly and deliciously scented.

“Grandpa, is it too late to bring Star out for a nibble?” asked the little girl wistfully.

“No, I guess not,” returned the broker as he opened his cigar case. “Star may have a short life, but he's certainly experiencing a merry one. There's no moss gathering on that pony.”

Jewel had not waited for more than the permission. She was fleeing toward the barn.

Mr. Evringham lighted his cigar, and then his eye fell upon the doll, too hastily set down, and fallen at a distressing angle. Her eyes were closed as if her sensibilities had been shocked overmuch.

“Anna Belle, Anna Belle, has it come to this!” he murmured, picking up the neglected one, who, with her usual elasticity and exuberance of spirit, at once opened her eyes and beamed optimistically on her rescuer. He set her, facing him, on his knee. “Such is youth!” he sighed. “When she throws you down, I feel that I'm not going to be so recuperative as you, Anna Belle. I have a plan, however, a plan of self-defense; but if it weren't for your discretion, I shouldn't tell it to you, for I'm an old bird, young lady, and can't be caught with chaff. There are many worthy persons who may rise to lofty heights in eternity, who nevertheless, meanwhile are not desirable to sit opposite a man at his breakfast table. A visit, Anna Belle, a short visit from my daughter Julia is all I shall ask for at first, and I shall test her, test her, my dear. I'll look at her through a magnifying glass. Of course, if they'd give me Jewel, it would be all I'd ask for; but they won't. That is self-evident.”

Here the child came around the corner of the house, leading her pet by a halter, but with her hand in his mane as she pressed close to his side, caressing and talking to him. In fact it was the harassing problem of the pony's life to manage to avoid stepping on her. Zeke lounged in the background on account equally of his orders and his inclination.

Star began cropping the grass, and Mr. Evringham continued his disquisition to the bright-eyed young person on his knee:—

“My son Harry is turning out a pretty good sort, I fancy. I'm not particularly shy of giving him a trial, provided he'll do the same by me; but I suppose he will have to go West at first, anyway. Julia is a different thing. I can't whistle her on and off with the same frankness; and I must be careful, Anna Belle. Do you understand? Careful! And I'm going to be, by Jove, in spite of the way it makes me cringe to think of this big house, empty as a drum. It wasn't empty before, that's the mischief of it. What has happened to me? I thought things were well enough in those days. Nobody whom I knew was particularly happy. Why should I be?”

The thrushes stopped, for Jewel's childish voice floated out on the evening air.

Mr. Evringham knew what had happened. He knew that Zeke had asked her to sing. They two were sitting on the ground, while the pony cropped away at the sweet grass.

The broker listened for a minute.

“I'll take Jewel and her mother to the seashore somewhere; for I must leave the house, if only to let Madge down easily, and too, I wish to study Julia outside her atmosphere. Poor Madge, she's a light weight, but I think there are better times coming for her. At View Point she'll find friends.”

Time passed, and at last Mr. Evringham called, “That will do, Jewel.”

“Do you want Star to go in?” she returned.

The broker nodded, and the child sprang up and began patting and smoothing the little horse with energetic affection.

“It's your bedtime, Star,” she said, “but morning's coming.” She kissed his sleek shoulder. “We'll have such a good time in the morning. I don't bounce a bit now, do I, Zeke?” she asked, turning to him.

“Well, I guess not,” returned Zeke scornfully. “You ain't the kind that gets bounced after a fellow knows you,” he added, smiling. He took the pony's halter. “Good-night, Jewel.”

“Good-night, Zeke.” She ran across the lawn and up the piazza steps. “How kind of you, grandpa, to amuse Anna Belle!” she exclaimed gratefully, observing the doll on his knee. At the same time she most abruptly whisked that patient person into a neighboring chair and usurped her place. Cuddling down in her grandfather's arms, she nestled her head against his shoulder and sighed happily.

The light began to fade, the last smoke from the broker's cigar curled out into the summer air. He tossed it away and pressed the child more closely to him.

“Sing once again the song you sang for Zeke.” he said.

And she began softly in her true, clear voice:—

“Amen,” breathed Mr. Evringham.