Jewel: A Chapter in Her Life - Clara Louise Burnham

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and had made and lost a fortune when he died at the age of thirty-five.”

      “Broke himself, did he?” remarked the irrepressible 'Zekiel.

      “Yes, he did. Here we were, living in peace and comfort—my employer at sixty a man of settled habits and naturally very set in his ways and satisfied with his home and the way I had run it for him for fifteen years—when three blows fell on him at once. Firstly his son Lawrence failed and was ruined; secondly he died; and thirdly his widow and her daughter nineteen years old came here a couple of months ago and settled on Mr. Evringham, and here they've stayed ever since! I don't think they have an idea of going away.” Mrs. Forbes's eyes snapped. “Such an upset as it was! I couldn't show how I felt, of course, for it was so much worse for him than it was for me. He had never cared for Mrs. Evringham, and scarcely knew the girl who called him 'grandfather' without an atom of right.”

      “Hard lines,” observed 'Zekiel. “Does the girl call herself Evringham?”

      “Does she?” with scorn. “Well I guess she does. Of course she was only four when her mother married Lawrence, and I guess she was fond of her stepfather and he of her, because he never had any children; but sometimes I ask myself, is it going on forever? I only hope Eloise'll get married soon.”

      'Zekiel dropped the harness to arrange imaginary curls on his temples and pat the tie on his muscular neck. “If she's pretty I'm willing,” he responded.

      His mother shook her head absently. “Then there was Mr. Evringham's younger son, a regular roving ne'er-do-well. He didn't like Wall Street and he went West to Chicago. He was a rolling stone, first in one position and then in another; then he got married, and after a few years he rolled away altogether. All Mr. Evringham knows about him and his family is that he had one child. Harry wrote a few letters about his wife Julia and the baby, at the time it was born, and Mr. Evringham sent a present of money; then the letters ceased until one day the wife wrote him frantically that her husband had disappeared and begged to know where he was. Mr. Evringham knew nothing about him and wrote her so, and that is the last he's heard. So you see if he looks cold and hard, he's had enough to make him so.”

      “H'm!” ejaculated 'Zekiel. “He don't give the impression of lyin' awake nights wondering how his deserted daughter-in-law and the kid make out.”

      “Why should he?” retorted Mrs. Forbes sharply. “His two boys acted as selfish to him as boys could. He's a disappointed, humiliated man in that proud heart of his. He's been hunted out and harrowed up in this peaceful retreat, when all he asked was to be let alone with his horses and his golf clubs, and I think one daughter-in-law's enough under the circumstances. I have some respect for Mrs. Harry, whoever she is, because she lets him alone. In all the long years we've spent here, when he often had no one to talk to but me, he's let me have a glimpse of these things, and I've told you so's you'd think right about him and serve him all the better.”

      “He's got a look in his eyes like cold steel,” remarked Ezekiel, “and lines under 'em like they'd been drawn with steel; and his back's as flat and straight as if a steel rod took the place of a spine. That thick gray hair and mustache of his might be steel threads.”

      “He's a splendid sight on horseback,” responded Mrs. Forbes devoutly. “His sons were neither of 'em ever the man he is. I'd like to protect him from being imposed upon if such a thing was possible.”

      “Sho!” drawled 'Zekiel. “Might's well talk about protecting a battleship.”

      “Well, 'Zekiel Forbes,” returned his mother, her eyes bright, “can't you imagine a battleship hesitating to run down a little pleasure yacht with all its flags flying? And can't you imagine that hesitation costing the battleship considerable precious time and money? You've said a good deal about my sacrificing my room in the house and coming out here to fix a little home for us both, upstairs in the barn chambers, but perhaps you can see now that it isn't all sacrifice, that perhaps I'm glad of an excuse to get out of the house, where things are so different from what they used to be, and to have a cosy home with my own boy. Now then, 'Zekiel,” coaxingly, these words recalling her boy's responsibilities, “look over there once more and tell me which of those is the spider.”

      Zekiel dropped the harness and laid his hand gently on his mother's forehead. “There isn't anything there, dear mother,” he said soothingly.

      “Zeke!” she exclaimed, jerking away with a short reluctant laugh.

      “'Mother, dear mother, come home with me now,'” he roared sentimentally, so that Essex Maid lifted her beautiful head and looked out in surprise. “Remember Fanshaw, and put more water in it after this,” he added, dropping his arm to his mother's neck and capturing her with a hug.

      “'Zekiel!” she protested. “'Zekiel!”

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      The mother was still laughing and struggling in the irresistible embrace when both became aware that a third person was regarding them in open-mouthed astonishment.

      “'Zekiel, let me go!” commanded the scandalized woman, and pushed herself free from her tormentor, who forthwith returned rather sheepishly to his buckles.

      The young man with trim-pointed beard and mirthful eyes, who stood in the driveway, had just dismounted from a shining buggy. Doubt and astonishment were apparently holding him dumb.

      The housekeeper, smoothing her disarranged locks and much flushed of face, returned his gaze, rising from her chair.

      “I couldn't believe it was you, Mrs. Forbes!” declared the newcomer. “Fanshaw isn't—” He looked around vaguely.

      “No, he isn't, Dr. Ballard,” returned Mrs. Forbes shortly. “He forgot to rub down Essex Maid one evening when she came in hot, and that finished him with Mr. Evringham.”

      The young doctor's lips twitched beneath his mustache as he looked at 'Zekiel, polishing away for dear life.

      “You seem to have some one else here—some friend,” he remarked tentatively.

      “Friend!” echoed the housekeeper with exasperation, feeling to see just how much Zeke had rumpled her immaculate collar. “We looked like friends when you came up, didn't we!”

      “Like intimate friends,” murmured the doctor, still looking curiously at the big fair-haired fellow, who was crimson to his temples.

      “I don't know how long we shall continue friends if he ever grabs me again like that just after I've put on a clean collar. He's got beyond the place where I can correct him. I ought to have done it oftener when I had the chance. This is my boy 'Zekiel, Dr. Ballard,” with a proud glance in the direction of the youth, who looked up and nodded, then continued his labors. “Mr. Evringham has engaged him on trial. He's been with horses a couple of years, and I guess he'll make out all right.”

      “Glad to know you, 'Zekiel,” returned the doctor. “Your mother has been a good friend of mine half my life, and I've often heard her speak of you. Look out for my horse, will you? I shall be here half an hour or so.”

      When the doctor had moved off toward the house Mrs. Forbes nodded at her son knowingly.

      “Might's well walk Hector into the barn and uncheck him, Zeke,” she said. “They'll keep him more'n a half an hour. That young man, 'Zekiel Forbes—that young man's my hope.” Mrs. Forbes spoke impressively and shook her forefinger to emphasize her words.

      “What you hoping about him?” asked 'Zekiel, laying down the harness

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