“Not yet. Perhaps we could enter together.” “Do you think so?” she returned eagerly. He was looking down at her still--calm, strong. She started. “I mustn't be late to dinner. Good-by. Sunday, Nat.” “Not to-morrow? I want some golf.” “Yes, go. It's a fine links. I'm sorry, but I'd better not go there for the present. Good-by.” She was gone, so he strolled on and out through the park, and as he went he put two and two together, and suspected the cause of the girl's objection to golf. CHAPTER XXVI ON WEDNESDAY EVENING “This is my silk dress, grandpa,” said Jewel, coming out on the piazza Sunday morning. Mr. Evringham was sitting there reading the paper. He looked up to behold his granddaughter standing expectantly. She had on the cherished frock. Her plump black legs ended in new shoes, the brim of her large hat was wreathed with daisies, snowy ribbons finished her well-brushed braids, while, happiest touch of all, Little Faithful was ticking away on her breast. “Well, who is this bonnie lassie?” asked Mr. Evringham, viewing her. “It's my best one,” said Jewel, smilingly, coming close to him. “I should hope so. If you were anything grander I should have to put on smoked glasses to look at you. Church, eh?” He took the brown pamphlet she carried and examined it. “Yes. I wish you were coming.” “Oh, I have an important engagement at the golf club this morning.” “Have you? Well, grandpa, I was thinking you can't play golf or ride at night, and wouldn't you take me Wednesday evening?” “Where to?” “Church.” “Heavens, child! Wednesday evening prayer meeting?” asked the broker in perturbation. “No. It's just lovely reading and singing and interesting stories,” replied Jewel, endeavoring to paint the picture as attractively as possible. “H'm. H'm. Do you suppose Mr. Reeves goes?” “Why, of course,” replied the child. “Scientists never stay away.” “Then should I be considered a Scientist if I went? I still have some regard for my reputation.” “A great many visitors go,” replied the child earnestly. Then she added, with unmistakably sincere naivete, “I don't mind leaving you in the daytime, because we're used to it; but I was thinking it would make me homesick, grandpa, to go away in the evening and leave you in the library.” Mr. Evringham took her little hand in his. “Have you thought, Jewel,” he asked, “how it will be when you leave me altogether?” “I shall have mother and father then,” returned the child. “Yes; but whom shall I have?” The question came curtly, and Jewel looked into the deep-set eyes in surprise. “Shall you miss me, grandpa?” she asked wonderingly. “Whom shall I have, I say?” he repeated. The child thought a minute. “Just who you had before,” she answered, slipping her arm around his neck. “There's Essex Maid, you know.” The broker gave a short laugh. “Yes. It's lucky, isn't it?” he returned, rather bitterly. “Do you like to have me with you, grandpa?” pursued the child, pleased.