Jewel quietly joined her stately companion, and walked away sedately beside her. They did not exchange many words on their way to the park gates, for Mrs. Forbes needed her breath for the rather long promenade, and Jewel was busy looking at the trees and trim swards and crocus beds beside the winding road. Outside the gate they had to wait but a minute before the car came, and after they had boarded it, the little girl was entertained by looking out of the window, and often wished for Anna Belle's sympathy in some novel sight or sound. A ride of fifteen minutes brought them to the shoe store. Mrs. Forbes seemed to know the clerk, and Jewel was finally fitted to her guardian's satisfaction, but scarcely to her own, the housekeeper having selected the species known as storm rubbers, and chose them as large as would stay on. “They're quite warm, aren't they?” said Jewel, looking down at her shiny feet and trying to speak cheerfully. “When you wear them you want to be warm,” was Mrs. Forbes's rejoinder. “I brought my money,” said the child, in a low voice. “No. Your grandfather wishes to make you a present of these.” The housekeeper's tone was final, and she paid for the overshoes, which were wrapped up, and then she led Jewel out of the store. Next door was a candy shop with alluring windows. “I'd like to go in here,” said the little girl. “Would you mind?” “Do you spend your money for candy, Julia?” “Yes'm. Don't you like it?” Jewel lingered, looking at the pretty display. Easter had recently passed, and there were bright-eyed little yellow chickens that especially took her fancy. “It isn't a question of liking it when people are poor,” returned Mrs. Forbes. “I'm astonished that your mother encourages you to spend money for candy.” Jewel looked up quickly. “Did you think we were poor?” she asked, with disconcerting suddenness. Mrs. Forbes hesitated. “Your mother is a dressmaker, isn't she?” “Yes, she's just a splendid one. Everybody says so. We couldn't be poor, you know. She found out about God before I was old enough to talk, so you see all her poor time came before I can remember.” The housekeeper glanced about her furtively. “Julia, don't you know you shouldn't use your Creator's name on the street!” she exclaimed, when she had made certain that no one was listening. “Why not?” asked the child. “Why--why--it isn't a proper place. Some one might hear you.” “Well, won't you let me get some candy now? If I knew what kind you liked, Mrs. Forbes, I'd get it.” “I don't eat candy as a rule. It's not only extravagant, it's very unhealthy.” The little girl smiled. “How do you suppose your stomach knows what you put into it?” she asked. “I guess you're just a little--bit--afraid, aren't you?” “Odder than Dick's hatband!” quoth Mrs. Forbes again, mentally. “I take horehound drops sometimes,” she said aloud, “for a cold.”