One morning Mr. Evringham, coming out of the house to go to town, met Eloise on the piazza. “You are down early,” he said as he greeted her, and was passing on to the carriage. “Just one minute, grandfather!” she exclaimed, and how her heart beat. He turned his erect form in some surprise, and his cold eyes met the girlish ones. “She's a stunning creature,” he thought, as the sunlight bathed her young beauty; but his face was impenetrable, and Eloise nerved herself. “Were you thinking of going golfing this afternoon?” she asked. “Yes.” “I thought you said something about it at dinner last evening. Would you let me go with you?” Mr. Evringham, much astonished, raised his eyebrows and took off the hat which he had replaced. “Such a request from youth and beauty is a command,” he returned with a slight bow. Tears sprang to the girl's eyes. “Don't make fun of me, grandfather!” she exclaimed impulsively. “Not for worlds,” he returned. “You will do the laughing when you see me drive. My hand seems to have lost its cunning this spring. Shall we say four-thirty? Very well. Good-morning.” “Now what's all this?” mused Mr. Evringham as he drove to the station. “Has another granddaughter fallen in love with me? Methinks not. What is she after? Does she want to get away from Ballard? Methinks not, again. She's going to ask me for something probably. Egad, if she does, I think I'll turn her over to Jewel.” Eloise's eyes were bright during the lesson that morning. “It's to-day, Jewel,” she said, “that I'm going to talk with that man I'm afraid of.” “Never say that again,” returned the child vehemently. “You are not afraid. There's no one to be afraid of. Do you want me to handle it for you?” “What do you mean, Jewel?” “To declare the truth for you.” “Do you mean give me a treatment for it?” “Yes.” “Oh. Do you know that seems very funny to me, Jewel?” “It seems funny to me that you are afraid, when God made you, and the man, and all of us, and there's nothing but goodness and love in the universe. Fear is the belief of evil. Do you want to believe evil?” “No, I hate to,” returned Eloise promptly. “Then you go away, cousin Eloise, and I will handle the case for you.” “Oh, are you going golfing?” said Mrs. Evringham that afternoon to her daughter. “Do put on your white duck, dear.” “Yes, I intend to. I'm going with grandfather.” “You are?” in extremest surprise. “Oh, wear your dark skirt, dear; it's plenty good enough. Do you mean to say he asked you, Eloise?” “No, I asked him.” Mrs. Evringham stood in silent amaze, her brain working alertly. She even watched her daughter don the immaculate white golf suit, and made no further protest. What was in the girl's mind? When finally from her window she saw the two enter the brougham, Mr. Evringham carrying his granddaughter's clubs, she smiled a knowing smile and nodded her head.