Jewel's Story Book Part 54

"I did send it," she said suddenly, with her chin up. Then, ignoring Frank and Lucy's open-mouthed stares, she turned toward Alma. "I sent you the 'comic,'" she went on. "I thought it would be fun, but it wasn't, and I'm sorry. I should like to have you forgive me."

Her tone was far from humble, but it was music to Alma's ears. The little girl clasped her hands together. "Oh, I do," she replied earnestly, "and it made everybody so kind! Please don't feel bad about it. I got the loveliest valentines in the evening, and Miss Joslyn came to see us, and we had a letter from my father and he has a splendid place to work and--and everything!"

Ada breathed a little faster at the close of this breathless speech. Alma's eagerness to ascribe even her father's good fortune to the sending of the 'comic' touched her. In her embarra.s.sment she took another determination.

"If you'll excuse me, Frank," she said turning to him, "I think I'll take Alma home in the auto, instead of you."

"All right," returned the boy, his face flushed. "You're a brick, Ada!"

This praise from one who seldom praised gave Ada secret elation, and made her resolve to deserve it. "Good-by, Lucy," was all she said, but the girls' eyes met, and Lucy knew the trouble was over.

As Ada and Alma went downstairs, Lucy ran to the hall window, and Frank followed. "Don't let them see us," she said joyfully.

So, very cautiously, the two peeped and saw the handsome automobile waiting. Mrs. Singer was sitting within and they saw Ada say something to her; then Alma, her thick coat over the gingham ap.r.o.n, and the large dinner-pail in her hand, climbed in, Ada after her, and away they all went.

Lucy turned to Frank with her face glowing.

"It's all right now," she said. "When Ada takes hold she never lets go; and now she's taken hold right!"

CHAPTER XVI

A MORNING RIDE

Mrs. Evringham's listeners thanked her, then discussed the story a few minutes.

"I'd like to get acquainted with Alma," said Jewel, "and help be kind to her."

"Oh, she's going to have a very good time now," replied Mr. Evringham. "One can see that with half an eye. Were there any Almas where you went to school, Jewel?"

"No, there weren't. We didn't bring lunches and we went home in a 'bus."

"Jewel went to a very nice private school," said Mrs. Evringham. "Her teachers were Christian Scientists and I made their dresses for them in payment."

The logs were red in the fireplace now, and the roar of the wind-driven sea came from the beach.

"Well, we've a good school for her," replied Mr. Evringham, "and there'll be no dresses to make either."

His daughter looked at him wistfully. "I'm very happy when I think of it,"

she answered, "for there is other work I would rather do."

"I should think so, indeed. Catering to the whims of a lot of silly women who don't know their own minds! It must be the very--yes, very unpleasant.

Yes, we have a fine school in Bel-Air. Jewel, we're going to work you hard next winter. How shall you like that?"

"My music lessons will be the most fun," returned Jewel.

"And dancing school beside."

"Oh, grandpa, I'll love that! I used to know girls who went, in Chicago."

"Yes, I'm sure you will. You shall learn all the latest jigs and flings, too, that any of the children know. I think you ought to learn them quickly. You've been hopping up and down ever since I knew you."

Jewel exchanged a happy glance with her mother and clapped her hands at the joyful prospect.

Mrs. Evringham looked wistfully at her father-in-law. "I hope you'll be willing I should do the work I want to, father."

"What's that? Writing books? Perfectly willing, I a.s.sure you. I think you've made a very good start."

Mrs. Evringham smiled. "No, not writing books. Practicing Christian Science."

"Well, you do that all the time, don't you?"

"I mean taking patients."

"What!" Mr. Evringham straightened up in his chair and frowned at her incredulously. "Anybody? Tom, d.i.c.k, and Harry? You can't mean it!"

His tone was so severe that Jewel rose from her place on the rug and, climbing into his lap, rested her head on his breast. His hand closed on the soft little one unconsciously. "I suppose I don't understand you," he added, a shade more mildly.

"Not in your house, father," returned Julia. She had been preparing in thought for this moment for days. "Of course it wouldn't do to have strangers coming and going there."

"Nonsense, nonsense, my dear girl," brusquely, "put it out of your head at once. There is no need for you to do anything after this but bring up your child and keep your husband's s.h.i.+rt b.u.t.tons in place."

"I won't neglect either," replied Julia quietly; "but Mr. Reeves says there is great need of pract.i.tioners in Bel-Air. You know where the reading-room is? There is a little room leading out of it that I could have."

"For an office, do you mean? Nonsense," exclaimed Mr. Evringham again.

"Harry wouldn't think of allowing it."

Julia smiled. "Will you if he does?"

"What shall I say to her, Jewel?" The broker looked down into the serious face.

"I suppose mother ought to do it," replied the child. "Of course every one who knows how and has time wants to. You can see that, grandpa, because isn't your rheumatism better?"

"Yes. I like our resident physician very much; but we need her ourselves. I don't think I shall ever give my consent to such a thing."

"Oh, yes, you will, grandpa, if it's right." The flaxen head on his breast wagged wisely. "Some morning you'll come downstairs and say: 'Julia, I think you can go and get that office whenever you like.'"

Mrs. Evringham pressed her handkerchief to her lips. The couple in the armchair were so absorbed in one another that they did not observe her, and the broker's face showed such surprise.

"Upon my word!" he exclaimed, after a minute. "Upon my word!"

"Are you all through talking about that?" asked Jewel, after a pause.

"I am, certainly," replied Mr. Evringham.

"And I," added his daughter. She was content that the seed was planted, and preferred not to press the subject.