“Oh no, I'll take a pencil--because sometimes I move quickly and ink tips over.” “Quite so. I'm glad you realize that, else I should be afraid to have you come to my study.” “You'd better not be afraid,” the child shook her head sagely, “because that makes things happen.” Her grandfather regarded her curiously. This small Bible student, who couldn't tie her own hair ribbons, was an increasing problem to him. CHAPTER XIV FAMILY AFFAIRS He continued to watch the child furtively, while she made her arrangements for writing. Finding that no chair in the room would bring her to a proper height for the table, she looked all about, and finally skipped over to the morocco lounge and tugged from it a pillow almost too heavy for her to carry; but she arrived with it at the chair, much to the amusement of Mr. Evringham, who affected absorption in his papers, while he enjoyed the exhibition of the child's energy and independence. “She's the kind that 'makes old shears cut,' as my mother used to say,” he mused, and turning, the better to view the situation, he found Jewel mounted on her perch and watching him fixedly. She looked relieved. “I didn't want to disturb you, grandpa, but may I ask one question?” “Yes.” “Did I consult Dr. Ballard this afternoon?” “Not that I noticed,” returned Mr. Evringham; and Jewel suspected from his expression that she had said something amusing. “Well, it was a word that sounded like consult that Mrs. Forbes said I did.” “Insult, perhaps,” suggested Mr. Evringham. “Oh yes. How do you spell it, grandpa?” Mr. Evringham told her, and added dryly, “That was rather too strong language for Mrs. Forbes to apply to the fact.” “Yes,” replied the child. “I knew it was a hating word.” Then without further parley she squared her elbows on the table and bent over her sheet of paper. “I wonder what version of it she'll give her mother,” thought the broker, rummaging vaguely in the pigeon holes of his desk. His labors finally sifted down to the unearthing of a late novel from a drawer at his right hand, and lowering a convenient, green-shaded electric light, he lit his cigar, and was soon lost in the pages of the story. At last he became conscious that the pencil at the table had ceased to move, and lowering his book he looked up. His granddaughter had been watching for this happy event, and she no sooner met his eyes than, with a smile of satisfaction, she jumped from her morocco perch and brought him a sheet of paper well and laboriously covered. “I suppose it isn't all spelled right,” she said. “I didn't want to disturb you to ask; but will you please direct this to Dr. Ballard?” “To Dr. Ballard!” repeated Mr. Evringham. His curiosity impelled him. “Shall I see if it is spelled right?” Jewel assenting, he read the following in a large and waving hand.