Jewel's Story Book Part 23

"She is charming."

"Of course she isn't your real relation, the way I am."

"Oh, come now. She's my daughter."

Jewel smiled at him doubtfully. "But so is aunt Madge," she returned.

"Why, Jewel, I'm surprised that any one who looks so tall as you do in a riding skirt shouldn't know more than that! Mrs. Harry Evringham is _your_ mother."

"I never thought of that," returned the child seriously. "Why, so she is."

"That brings her very close, very close, you see," said Mr. Evringham, and his reasoning was clear as daylight to Jewel.

At dinner that evening she was still further rea.s.sured. The child did not know that the maids in the house, having been scornfully informed by aunt Madge of Mrs. Harry's business, were prepared to serve her grudgingly, and regard her visit as being merely on sufferance despite Mrs. Forbes's more optimistic view. But the spirit that looked out of Mrs. Evringham's dark eyes and dwelt in the curves of her lips came and saw and conquered. Jewel had won the hearts of the household, and already its unanimous voice, after the glimpses it had had of her mother during two days, was that it was no wonder.

Even the signs of labor that appeared in Julia's p.r.i.c.ked fingers made the serenity of her happy face more charming to her father-in-law. She had Jewel's own directness and simplicity, her appreciation and enjoyment of all beauty, the child's own atmosphere of unexacting love and grat.i.tude.

Every half hour that Mr. Evringham spent with her lessened his regret at having burned his bridges behind him.

"Now, you mustn't be lonely here, Julia," he said, that evening at dinner.

"I have come to be known as something of a hermit by choice; but while Madge and Eloise lived with me, I fancy they had a good many callers, and they went out, to the mild degree that society smiles upon in the case of a recent widow and orphan. They were able to manage their own affairs; but you are a stranger in a strange land. If you desire society, give me a hint and I will get it for you."

"Oh, no, father!" replied Julia, smiling. "There is nothing I desire less."

"Mother'll get acquainted with the people at church," said Jewel, "and I know she'll love Mr. and Mrs. Reeves. They're grandpa's friends, mother."

"Yes," remarked Mr. Evringham, busy with his dinner, "some of the best people in Bel-Air have gone over to this very strange religion of yours, Julia. I shan't be quite so conspicuous in harboring two followers of the faith as I should have been a few years ago."

"No, it is becoming quite respectable," returned Julia, with twinkling eyes.

"Three, grandpa, you have three here," put in Jewel. "You didn't count Zeke."

Mrs. Evringham looked up kindly at Mrs. Forbes, who stood by, as usual, in her neat gown and ap.r.o.n.

"Zeke is really in for it, eh, Mrs. Forbes?" Mr. Evringham asked the question without glancing up.

"Yes, sir, and I have no objection. I'm too grateful for the changes for the better in the boy. If Jewel had persuaded him to be a fire wors.h.i.+per I shouldn't have lifted my voice. I'd have said to myself, 'What's a little more fire here, so long as there'll be so much less hereafter.'"

Mrs. Evringham laughed and the broker shook his head. "Mrs. Forbes, Mrs.

Forbes, I'm afraid your orthodoxy is getting rickety," he said.

"How about your own, father?" asked Julia.

"Oh, I'm a pa.s.senger. You see, I know that Jewel will ask at the heavenly gate if I can come in, and if they refuse, they won't get her, either. That makes me feel perfectly safe."

Jewel watched the speaker seriously. Mr. Evringham met her thoughtful eyes.

"Oh, they'll want you, Jewel. Don't you be afraid."

"I'm not afraid. How could I be? But I was just wondering whether you didn't know that you'll have to do your own work, grandpa."

He looked up quickly and met Julia's s.h.i.+ning eyes.

"Dear me," he responded, with an uncomfortable laugh. "Don't I get out of it?"

The next morning when Jewel had driven back from the station, and she and her mother had studied the day's lesson, they returned to the ravine, taking the Story Book with them.

Before settling themselves to read, they counted the new wild flowers that had unfolded, and Jewel sprinkled them and the ferns, from the brook.

"Did you ever see anybody look so pretty as Anna Belle does, in that necklace?" exclaimed Jewel, fondly regarding her child, enthroned against the snowy trunk of a little birch-tree. "It isn't going to be your turn to choose the story this morning, dearie. Here, I'll give you a daisy to play with."

"Wait, Jewel, I think Anna Belle would rather see it growing until we go, don't you?"

"Would you, dearie? Yes, she says she would; but when we go, we'll take the sweet little thing and let it have the fun of seeing grandpa's house and what we're all doing."

"It seems such a pity, to me, to pick them and let them wither," said Mrs.

Evringham.

"Why, I think they only seem to wither, mother," replied Jewel hopefully.

"A daisy is an idea of G.o.d, isn't it?"

"Yes, dear."

"When one seems to wither and go out of sight, we only have to look around a little, and pretty soon we see the daisy idea again, standing just as white and bright as ever, because G.o.d's flowers don't fade."

"That's so, Jewel," returned the mother quietly.

The child drew a long breath. "I've thought a lot about it, here in the ravine. At first I thought perhaps picking a violet might be just as much error as killing a bluebird; and then I remembered that we pick the flower for love, and it doesn't hurt it nor its little ones; but n.o.body ever killed a bird for love."

Mrs. Evringham nodded.

"Now it's my turn to choose," began Jewel, in a different tone, settling herself near the seat her mother had taken.

Mrs. Evringham opened the book and again read over the t.i.tles of the stories.

"Let's hear 'The Apple Woman's Story,'" said Jewel, when she paused.

Her mother looked up. "Do you remember good old Chloe, who used to come every Sat.u.r.day to scrub for me? Well, something she told me of an experience she once had, when she was a little girl, put the idea of this tale into my head; and I'll read you

THE APPLE WOMAN'S STORY

Franz and Emilie and Peter Wenzel were little German children, born in America. Their father was a teacher, and his children were alone with him except for the good old German woman, Anna, who was cook and nurse too in the household. She tried to teach Franz and Emilie to be good children, and took great care of Peter, the st.u.r.dy three-year-old boy, a fat, solemn baby, whose hugs were the greatest comfort his father had in the world.

Franz and Emilie had learned German along with their English by hearing it spoken in the house, and it was a convenience at times, for instance, when they wished to say something before the colored apple woman which they did not care to have her understand; but the apple woman did not think they were polite when they used an unknown tongue before her.

"Go off fum here," she would say to them when they began to talk in German.

"None o' that lingo round my stand. Go off and learn manners." And when Franz and Emilie found she was in earnest they would ask her to forgive them in the politest English they were acquainted with; for they were very much attached to the clean, kind apple woman, whose stand was near their father's house. They admired her bright bandana headdress and thought her the most interesting person in the world. As for the apple woman, she had had so many unpleasant experiences with teasing children that she did not take Franz and Emilie into her favor all at once, but for some time accepted their pennies and gave them their apples when they came to buy, watching them suspiciously with her sharp eyes to make sure that they were not intending to play her any trick.

But even before they had become regular customers she decided under her breath that they were "nice chillen;" and when she came to know them better her kind heart overflowed to them.