As they entered the library he turned on the light, and Jewel glanced about with her usual alert and ready admiration. “Is this your own, own particular room, grandpa?” she asked. “Yes, where I keep all my books and papers.” The child's eye suddenly lighted on the yellow chicken, and she looked up at Mr. Evringham with a pleased smile. He had forgotten the chicken, and took the seat before his desk, glancing vaguely about to see which chair would be least heavy and ponderous for his guest. She settled the matter without any hesitation by jumping upon his knee. Jewel had a subject on her mind which pressed heavily, and before her companion had had time to do more than wink once or twice in his surprise, she proceeded to it. “Do you know, grandpa, I think it's hard for Mrs. Forbes to love people very much,” she said in a lowered voice, as if perhaps the walls might have ears. “I wanted to ask her yesterday morning if she didn't love me whom she had seen, how could she love God whom she hadn't seen. Grandpa, would you be willing to tie my bows?” “To tie”--repeated Mr. Evringham, and paused. The child was gazing into his eyes earnestly. She put her hand into her pocket and took out two long pieces of blue ribbon. “You see, you're my only real relation,” she explained, “and so I don't like to ask anybody else.” The startled look in her grandfather's face moved her to proceed encouragingly. “You tie your neckties just beautifully, grandpa; and Mrs. Forbes does her duty so _hard_, and she wants to have my hair cut off, to save trouble.” Jewel put her hand up to one short pigtail protectingly. “And you don't want it cut off, eh?” “No; and mother wouldn't either. So it would be error, and I'm sure I could learn to fix it better than I did to-night, if you would tie the bows. Just try one right now, grandpa.” “With the house full of women!” gasped Mr. Evringham. “But none of them my real relatives,” replied Jewel, and she turned the back of her head to him, putting the ribbons in his hands. His fingers fumbled at the task for a minute, and his breathing began to be heavy. “Is it hard, grandpa?” she asked sympathetically. “You can do it. You reflect intelligence.” Then in an instant, “Oh, I've thought of something.” She whisked about, took the ribbons and tied one tightly around the end of each braid, then ducking her forehead into his shirt front, “Now put your arms around my neck and tie the bow just as if it was on yourself.” Eureka! The thing was accomplished and Mrs. Forbes outwitted. The broker was rather pleased with himself, at the billowy appearance of the ribbon which covered such a multitude of sins in the way of bad parting and braiding. He took his handkerchief and wiped the beads of perspiration from his brow, while Jewel regarded him with admiring affection.