Eloise waited, openly, eagerly listening, hoping the singer would resume. Something in those unexpected words in the sweet child voice stirred her. Presently Jewel sang on:-- “From tired joy, and grief afar, And nearer Thee, Father, where Thine own children are I love to be!” The lump that rose in the listener's throat forced a moisture into her eyes. “I never could hear a child sing without crying,” she said to herself in excuse, as she leaned her forehead on her hand against the jamb of the door and waited for the strange stir at her heart to quiet. The house was still. The rain swept against the panes, and tears stole from under the girl's long lashes--tears for her empty, vapid life, for the hopelessness of the future, for the humiliations of the present, for the lack of a love that should be without self-interest. “I like that verse, Anna Belle,” said the voice within. “Let's sing that again,” and the hymn welled forth:-- “From tired joy, and grief afar, And nearer Thee, Father, where Thine own children are I love to be!” “Is there a haven?” thought the swelling, listening heart outside. “Is there a place far alike from tired joy and grief?” “'Father, where Thine own children are,'” quoted Jewel. “We know where a lot of them are, don't we, Anna Belle, and we do love to be with them.” A pause, and a light sigh, which did not reach the listener. “But we're at grandpa's now,” finished the child's voice. Eloise's breaths came long and deep drawn, and she stood motionless, her eyes hidden. CHAPTER XVI THE FIRST LESSON Jewel looked up as she heard a knock. Sarah had made the bed and gone. Who could this be? At her “Come in,” Eloise entered the room. The child's face brightened questioningly. She rose and gazed at the enchanted maiden, very lovely in the wrapper of white silk, open at the throat, and with little billows of lace cascading down to the toes of her white Turkish slippers. “Good-morning, cousin Eloise,” said the child, waiting for the message or order which she supposed to be forthcoming. “Good-morning.” The girl cast a comprehensive glance around the rather bare room. Her eyes bore no traces of the tears so recently shed, but her face was sad. “I heard you singing,” she said. “Yes. Did I disturb anybody?” asked the child quickly. “No. It is nice to be like the birds that sing in the rain.” “Like the robin out there,” returned Jewel, relieved. “Did you hear him?” She ran to the window and threw it open, listening a minute. “No, he has gone.” “You said you would show me your doll,” went on Eloise when the window was closed again. “Oh,” returned Jewel pleased, “did you come to see Anna Belle? She's right here. We were just going to have the lesson.” She took the doll from the depths of a big chair and held her up with motherly pride. “Would you--won't you sit down a minute?”