Jewel: A Chapter in Her Life - Clara Louise Burnham

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the paper which he had just taken from a newsboy. It seemed to him a very long time since he had done anything he wished to; but a little hand was pulling eagerly at his, and mechanically he followed out to where the brisk spring wind ruffled the river and assaulted his hat. He jerked his hand from Jewel's to hold it in place.

      “Isn't this beautiful!” cried the child joyfully, as the boat steamed on. “Can you do this every day, grandpa?”

      “What? Oh yes, yes.”

      Something in the tone caused the little girl to look up from her view of the wide water spaces to the grim face above.

      “Is there something that makes you sorry, grandpa?” she asked softly.

      His eyes were fixed on a ferry boat, black with its human freight, about to pass them on its way to the city.

      “I was wishing I were on that boat. That's all.”

      The little girl lifted her shoulders. “I don't believe there's room,” she said, looking smilingly for a response from her companion. “I don't believe even Anna Belle could squeeze on. Do you think so?”

      Mr. Evringham, holding his hat with one hand, was endeavoring to fetter the lively corners of his newspaper in such shape that he could at least get a glimpse of headlines.

      “Oh, I see a statue. Is that it, grandpa? Is that it?”

      “What?” vaguely. “Oh yes. The statue of Liberty. Yes, that's it. As if there was any liberty for anybody!” muttered Mr. Evringham into his mustache.

      “It isn't so very big,” objected Jewel.

      “We're not so very near it.”

      “Just think,” gayly, “father and mother are sailing away just the way we are.”

      “H'm,” returned Mr. Evringham, trying to read the report of the stock market, and becoming more impatient each instant with the sportive breeze.

      “Julia,” he said at last, “I am going into the cabin to read the paper. Will you go in, or do you wish to stay here?”

      “May I stay here?”

      “Yes,” doubtfully, “I suppose so, if you won't climb on the rail, or—or anything.”

      Jewel laughed in gleeful appreciation of the joke. Her grandfather met her blue eyes unsmilingly and vanished.

      “I wish grandpa didn't look so sorry,” she thought regretfully. “He is a very important man, grandpa is, and perhaps he has a lot of error to meet and doesn't know how to meet it.”

      Watching the dancing waves and constantly calling Anna Belle's attention to some point of interest on the water front or a passing craft, she nevertheless pursued a train of thought concerning her important relative, with the result that when the gong sounded for landing, and Mr. Evringham's impassive countenance reappeared, she met him with concern.

      “Doesn't it make you sorry to read the morning paper, grandpa?”

      “Sometimes. Depends on the record of the Exchange.” There was somewhat less of the irritation of a newsless man in the morning in the speaker's tone.

      “Mother calls the paper the Daily Saddener,” pursued Jewel, again slipping her hand into her grandfather's as a matter of course as they moved slowly off the boat. “I've been thinking that perhaps you're in a hurry to get to business, grandpa.”

      The child did not quote his words about the ingoing ferry boat lest he should feel regret at having spoken them.

      “Well, there's no use in my being in a hurry this morning,” he returned.

      “I was going to ask, couldn't you show me how to go to Bel-Air, so you wouldn't have to take so much time?”

      A gleam of hope came into Mr. Evringham's cold eyes and he looked down on his companion doubtfully.

      “We have to go out on the train,” he said.

      “Yes,” returned the child, “but you could put me on it, and every time it stops I would ask somebody if that was Bel-Air.”

      The prospect this offered was very pleasing to the broker.

      “You wouldn't be afraid, eh?”

      “Be what?” asked Jewel, looking up at him with a certain reproachful surprise.

      “You wouldn't, eh?”

      “Why, grandpa!”

      “Well, I believe it would do well enough, since you don't mind. Zeke is going to meet this train. I'll tell the conductor to see that you get off at Bel-Air, and when you do, ask for Mr. Evringham's coachman. You'll see Zeke, a light-haired man driving a brown horse in a brougham. He'll take you home to his mother, Mrs. Forbes. She is my housekeeper. Now, do you think you'll understand?”

      “It sounds very easy,” returned Jewel.

      Mr. Evringham's long legs and her short skipping ones lost no time in boarding the train, which they found made up. The relieved man saw the conductor, paid the child's fare, and settled her on the plush seat.

      She sat there, contentedly swinging her feet.

      “Now I can just catch a boat if I leave you immediately,” said Mr. Evringham consulting his watch. “You've only a little more than five minutes to wait before the train starts.”

      “Then hurry, grandpa, I'm all right.”

      “Very well. Your fare is paid, and the conductor understands. You might ask somebody, though. Bel-Air, you know. Good-by.”

      Hastily he strode down the aisle and left the train. Having to pass the window beside which Jewel sat, he glanced up with a half uneasy memory of how far short of the floor her feet had swung.

      She was watching for him. On her lips was the sweet gay smile and—yes, there was no mistake—Anna Belle's countenance was beaming through the glass, and she was wafting kisses to Mr. Evringham from a stiff and chubby hand. The stockbroker grew warm, cleared his throat, lifted his hat, and hurried his pace.

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       Table of Contents

      When her grandfather had disappeared, Jewel placed Anna Belle on the seat beside her, where she toed in, in a state of the utmost complacence.

      “I have my work to do, Anna Belle,” she said, “and this will be a good time, so don't disturb me till the train starts.” She put her hand over her eyes, and sat motionless as the people met and jostled in the aisle.

      Minutes passed, and then some one brushed the child's arm in taking the seat beside her. “Oh, please don't sit on Anna Belle!” she cried suddenly, and looked up into a pair of clear eyes that were regarding her with curiosity.

      They belonged to a man with a brown mustache and dark, short, pointed beard, who carried a small square black case and had altogether a very clean, fresh, agreeable appearance.

      “Do I look like a person who would sit on Anna Belle?” he asked gravely.

      The doll was enthroned upon his knee as he set down his case, and the train started.

      “If she annoys you I'll take her,” said Jewel, with a little air of motherliness not lost upon her companion.

      “Thank you,” he replied, “but I'm used to children. She looks like a fine, healthy little girl,” keeping

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