Jewel: A Chapter in Her Life Part 40

"She's as pretty as a painting with that rose on, and her mother looks as contented as a cat with her paw on a mouse. She don't mean to play with that mouse, either. She won't run any risks. She'll take it right in. You're pretty near done for, my young feller, and your eyes look willing, I must say."

The spring rain proved to be a protracted storm. Mr. Evringham made his hours long in the city. Eloise came up to Jewel's room each morning and read the lesson with her, always reading on to herself after it was finished. She made the child tell her of the circ.u.mstances of her recent illness and cure, and listened to Jewel's affectionate comments on Dr.

Ballard's kindness with an inscrutable expression which did not satisfy the child.

"You love him, don't you?" asked the little girl.

Eloise gave a slight smile. "If everything that isn't love is hate, I suppose I ought to," she returned.

"Yes, indeed," agreed Jewel; "and he has been so kind to you I don't see how you can help it."

The girl sighed. "Don't grow up, Jewel," she said. "It makes lots of trouble."

On the second one of her visits to the child's room she put her hand on the flaxen head. "I'd like to fix your hair," she said. "Mrs. Forbes doesn't part it nicely."

"I do it myself," returned Jewel; "but I'd be glad to have you."

So Eloise washed the thick flaxen locks and dried them. Then she parted and brushed the hair, and when it was finally tied, Jewel regarded the reflection of her smooth head with satisfaction.

"It looks just the way mother makes it," she said. "I'm going to write to mother and father to-night, and I'm going to tell them how kind you are to me."

That evening, in Mr. Evringham's library, Jewel wrote the letter.

Her grandfather, after making some extremely uncomplimentary comments upon the weather, had lowered his green-shaded electric light and established himself beneath it with his book.

He looked across at the child, who was situated as before at the table, her crossed feet, in their spring-heeled shoes, dangling beneath.

"May I smoke, Jewel?" he asked, as he took a cigar from the case. He asked the question humorously, but the reply was serious.

"Oh yes, grandpa, of course; this is your room; but you know n.o.body likes tobacco naturally except a worm."

Mr. Evringham's deep-set eyes widened. "Is it possible? Well, we're all worms."

Jewel smiled fondly at him, her head a little on one side, in its characteristic att.i.tude.

"You're such a joker," she returned.

"If you really dislike smoke," said the broker after a minute, "perhaps you'd better take your letter up to your room."

"I don't mind it," she returned. "Father used to smoke. It's only a little while since it gave him up."

"You mean since he gave it up."

"No. When people study Christian Science, the error habits that they have just go away."

"Indeed? I'm glad you warned me." Mr. Evringham blew a delicate ring of smoke toward the table, but Jewel had begun to think of her parents, and her pencil was moving. Her grandfather noted the trim appearance of the bowed head.

"I don't know but I was cut out for a man milliner after all," he mused complacently. "Those bows have really a very chic appearance."

His book interested him, and he soon became absorbed in its pages. Jewel occasionally coming to an orthographic problem looked up and waited, but he did not observe her, so she patiently kept silence and resumed her work. At last the letter was finished.

She looked again at her grandfather, and opened her cramped little hand with relief. The back of her neck was tired with her bending posture.

She leaned back in the heavy chair to rest it while she waited. The eyelids, grown heavy with her labors, wavered and winked. The rain dripped down the panes, as if it had fallen into a monotonous habit. The sound was soothing. Jewel fell asleep.

When finally Mr. Evringham glanced at her he smiled. "Little thoroughbred," he mused; "she'd never disturb me." He rose and crossed to the child. There lay the finished letter. He took it up with some antic.i.p.ation:--

DEAR MOTHER AND FATHER----It is most time to get a leter from you but I will not wait to tell you I am happy and well.

Grandpa is the kindest man and he has the most Beautiful horse, her name is Essecks made. He let me sit on her back and give her Sugar. Cosin Elloees is the prettiest one of all. She has things that make her sorry but she is very kind to me. She washed my hare today and she helps me get the lesson. There is a docter here he is lovly. He tried to cure me when I had a claim but Mrs. Lewis did. Cosin Elloees reads S. and H when we get throo the lesson and I think she will be glad Pretty soon and not afrade Grandpa doesn't want her and Ant maj. She won't let me tell grandpa she is kind to me, but I can Explane beter when you come home.

Grandpa's kindness is inside, and he Looks sorry but n.o.boddy cood help loving him. I love you both every minnit and the leters in my pocket help me so much.

Your dear

JEWEL.

Mr. Evringham had scarcely finished reading this epistle when Jewel's head slipped on the polished woodwork against which she was leaning and b.u.mped against the side of the chair with a jar which awoke her.

Seeing her grandfather standing near she smiled drowsily. "I fell asleep, didn't I?" she said, and rubbed her eyes; then noting the sheet of paper in Mr. Evringham's hand, memory returned to her. She sat up with a start.

"Oh, grandpa, you haven't read my letter!" she exclaimed, with an accent of dismay which brought the blood to the broker's face. He felt a culprit before the shocked blue eyes.

"To--to see if it was spelled right, you know," he said. "You had me do it before."

"Yes, I wanted you to then," returned the child; "but it is error to read people's letters unless they ask you to, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's confoundedly bad form, Jewel. I beg your pardon. You didn't mean me to see those sweet things you said about me, eh?"

"That was no matter. It was cousin Eloise's secret. She trusted me." The child's eyes filled with tears.

The broker cleared his throat. "No harm done, I'm sure. No harm done,"

he returned brusquely, to cover his discomfiture. For the first time he made an advance toward his granddaughter. "Come here a minute, Jewel."

He took her hand and led her to his chair, and seating himself, lifted her into his lap. The corners of her lips were drawing down involuntarily, and as her head fell against his broad shoulder, he took out his handkerchief and dried her eyes. "I hope you'll forgive me," he said. "After this I will always wait for your permission. Now what is this about cousin Eloise?"

Jewel shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

"You can't tell me?"

"No."

"Then don't you think perhaps it was a good thing I read your letter after all, if it is something I ought to know?"

The speaker was not so interested to discover the secrets of his beautiful guest as to set himself right with this admirer. He did not relish falling from his pedestal.

"Do you think perhaps Divine Love made you do it, grandpa?" asked the child tremulously, with returning hope.

Mr. Evringham was quite certain that it had been curiosity, but he was willing to accept a higher sounding hypothesis.

"Mother explained to me about G.o.d making 'the wrath of man to praise Him,'" added Jewel after the moment's pause. "If it makes you kind to cousin Eloise, perhaps we can be glad you read it."