“How did Jewel ever win him?” she thought. The picturesque pony, with his arched neck and expensive trappings, had outraged her feelings for days. “About the View Point plan,” continued Mr. Evringham deliberately. “I think there are influences waiting for you there that will be of benefit. There is a new philosophy percolating in these days through our worldly rubbish which you and I would be the better for grasping. Your chances are better than mine, for you are young still. Your daughter is expanding like a flower already, in the first rays of her understanding of it. This young man whom you fancy you can avoid is a help to her. Mr. Reeves was talking to me about him last night. He says that so far as his business is concerned, young Bonnell is proving the square peg in the square hole. I don't know what Eloise's sentiments are toward him, but I do know that she shall be independent of any one's financial help but mine.” Mrs. Evringham lifted her eyes hopefully. “I shall eke out the little income which is left to you with sufficient for you to live--not as you have done--but comfortably.” The eager light faded from his listener's eyes. “Eloise and I have arranged that,” he continued, “and she is satisfied. Take my advice, Madge. Go to View Point.” “I suppose Eloise doesn't need horses so long as Jewel has them,” said Mrs. Evringham rising. Her host followed her example. “She thinks not,” he returned concisely; then he opened the library door, and his daughter-in-law swept from his presence with all the dignity she could muster. CHAPTER XXVIII AT TWILIGHT It was Sunday, and Mr. Bonnell was dining at Bel-Air Park. Had Jewel thought of it, she might have contrasted the expression of Mrs. Forbes's face as she waited at table this evening with the look it wore on the day she first arrived; might have noted the cheerful flow of talk which enlivened the board, in distinction from the stiff silence or bitter repartee which once chilled her. As she responded to the smiles hovering now about Eloise's lovely lips, she might have remembered the once sombre sadness of those eyes. Even Mrs. Evringham had buried the Macbethian dagger, and wore the meek and patient air of one misunderstood; but nothing would have amazed the child so much as to be told that she had had anything to do with this metamorphosis. Anna Belle,--deserted often now, perforce, on account of the pony, whose life was a strenuous one, owing to the variety of Jewel's attentions,--Anna Belle was petted with extra fondness when her turn came; and she sat at table now in a pleasing trance, her smile an impartial benediction upon all. It had been a glorious June day, the park was at its best. After dinner the family strolled out toward the piazza. Mrs. Forbes had attended her own Baptist church that morning, and the familiar Sunday-school tune that the children sang floated through her mind as she looked after the group.