“Yes; confound it, Jewel, yes.” “Then Divine Love will fix it somehow, for I love to be with you, too.” “You do, eh? Then I'll tell you that I received a letter from your father yesterday. It was a very pleasant letter, but it said they felt obliged, if they could, to stay over a little longer--two or three weeks longer.” The child's face grew thoughtful. “He said they had just received your letter, and were very pleased and thankful to know that you were happy. He said it would be a business advantage to them to stay, but that they could come home at the appointed time if you wished it. I am to cable them to-morrow, if you do.” Silence for a minute while Jewel thought. “Do you think you can be happy with me a little longer than you expected?” “I do want to see mother and father very much,” returned the child, “but I'm just as happy as anything,” she added heartily, after a pause. Mr. Evringham had listened with surprising anxiety for the verdict. “Very well, very well,” he returned, with extra brusqueness, picking up his newspaper. “I guess there won't be anything to prevent my going to that meeting with you Wednesday evening, Jewel. Just once, you understand, once only.” At this moment the brougham drove around to the steps, and Eloise came out upon the piazza. She was a vision of dainty purity in her white gown, white hat, and gloves. Mr. Evringham rose, lifted his hat, and going down the steps opened the door of the carriage. “A man need not be ashamed to have these two ladies represent him at church,” he said, looking into Eloise's calm eyes. She smiled back at him. There was no suspicion now of sarcasm or stings. The air she breathed was wholesome and inviting. The lump had been leavened. Arrived at the hall where the services were held, the girls were ushered into good seats before the room rapidly filled. They saw Mr. Reeves and his family and Mr. Bonnell come in on the other side, and the latter did not rest until he had found them and sent over a bright, quick nod. The platform was beautiful by a tall vase of roses at the side of the white reading-desk, and Eloise listened eagerly to the voices of the man and woman who alternately read the morning lesson. The peace, simplicity, and quiet of the service enthralled her. She looked over the crowd of listening, reverent faces with wistful wonder. Nat was among them, _Nat_! Sometimes she glanced across at his attentive face. Nat at church, in the morning; thoroughly interested! She pinched her arm to make quite certain. Once when they rose to sing, it was the hymn she had heard. The voices swelled:-- “O'er waiting harpstrings of the mind There sweeps a strain, Low, sad, and sweet, whose measures bind The power of pain.” The girl in the white dress did not sing. She swallowed often. The voice of the child at her side soared easily.