Jewels Story Book | Page 8

Eloise gave me that when she went away. She has had it
ever since she was as little as I am, and she said she left her heart with
me. I'm so sorry you won't see cousin Eloise."
"So she and her mother have gone away. Were they sorry to go? Did
Mr. Evringham--perhaps--think"--the speaker paused. She remembered
Jewel's letter about the situation.
"No, they weren't sorry. They've gone to the seashore; but cousin Eloise
and I love each other very much, and her room is so empty now that
I've had to keep remembering that you were coming and everything
was happy. I guess cousin Eloise is the prettiest girl in the whole world;
and since she stopped being sorry we've had the most fun."
"I wish I could see her!" returned Mrs. Evringham heartily. She longed
to thank Eloise for supplying the sunshine of love to her child while the
grandfather was providing for her material wants. She looked at Jewel
now, a picture of health and contentment, her bits of small finery in
watch and locket standing as symbols of the care and affection she had
received.
"Divine Love has been so kind to us, dearie," she said softly, as she
pressed the child closer to her. "He has brought father and mother back
across the ocean and has given you such loving friends while we were
gone."
In a future day Mrs. Evringham was to learn something of the inner
history of the progress of this little pilgrim during her first days at
Bel-Air; but the shadows had so entirely faded from Jewel's
consciousness that she could not have told it herself--not even such

portions of it as she had once realized.
"Yes, indeed, I love Bel-Air and all the people. Even aunt Madge
kissed me when she went away and said 'Good-by, you queer little
thing!'"
"What did she mean?" asked Mrs. Evringham.
"I don't know. I didn't tell grandpa, because I thought he might not like
people calling me queer, but I asked Zeke."
"He's Mr. Evringham's coachman, isn't he?"
"Yes, and he's the nicest man, but he only told me that aunt Madge had
wheels. I asked him what kind of wheels, and he said he guessed they
were rubber-tired, because she was always rubbering and she made
people tired. You know Zeke is such a joker, so I haven't found out yet
what aunt Madge meant, and it isn't any matter because"--Jewel
reached up and hugged her mother, "you've come home."
Here the two men approached. "No more time for spooning," said
Harry cheerfully. "We're going now, little girls."
After all, there was nothing for Jewel to carry. Her father and
grandfather had the dress-suit case and bags.
Mrs. Evringham looked inquiringly at her husband, but he was gayly
talking with Jewel as the four walked out to the street.
Mr. Evringham led the way to a carriage that was standing there. "This
is ours," he said, opening the door.
Harry put the bags up beside the driver while his wife entered the
vehicle, still in doubt as to their destination. Jewel jumped in beside
her.
"You'd better move over, dear," said her mother quietly. "Let Mr.
Evringham ride forward."

She was not surprised that Jewel was ignorant of carriage etiquette. It
was seldom that either of them had seen the inside of one.
The broker heard the suggestion. "Place aux dames," he said, briefly,
and moved the child back with one hand. Then he entered, Harry
jumped in beside him, slammed the door, and they rolled away.
"If Anna Belle was here the whole family would be together," said
Jewel joyously. "I don't care which one I sit by. I love everybody in this
carriage!"
"You do, eh, rascal?" returned her father, putting his hand over in her
silken lap and giving her a little shake. "Where is the great and good
Anna Belle?"
"Waiting for us. Just think of it, all this time! Grandpa, are we going
home with you?"
"What do you mean?" inquired the broker, and the tone of the curt
question chilled the spine of his daughter-in-law. "Were you thinking
of spending the night in the ferry-house, perhaps?"
"Why, no, only mother said"--
Mrs. Evringham pressed the child's arm. "That was nothing, Jewel; I
simply didn't know what the plan was," she put in hastily.
"Oh, of course," went on the little girl. "Mother didn't know aunt
Madge and cousin Eloise were gone, and she didn't believe there'd be
room. She doesn't know how big the house is, does she, grandpa?" An
irresistible yawn seized the child, and in the middle of it her father
leaned forward and chucked her under the chin.
Her jaws came together with a snap. "There! you spoiled that nice
one!" she exclaimed, jumping