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.

"When He cometh, when He cometh, To make up His jewels, All His pure ones, all His bright ones, His loved and His own.

"Little children, little children, Who love their Redeemer, Are the jewels, precious jewels, His loved and His own."

"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.

"From tired joy and grief afar, And nearer Thee, Father, where Thine own children are I love to be!"

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:—

"From tired joy and grief afar, And nearer Thee, Father, where Thine own children are I love to be!"

"Amen," breathed Mr. Evringham.

THE END