In the excitement of the early morning start, Jewel had eaten little breakfast, but the soft resonance of the Japanese gong, when it sounded in the hall below, found her unready for food.

However, she judged the mellow sound to be her summons and obediently left her seat by the window. As she went down she looked askance at the tall dark clock which, even as she passed, chimed the half hour melodiously. Certainly her important grandfather lived in a wonderful house. She paused to hear the last notes of the bells, but catching sight of the figure of Mrs. Forbes waiting below, she started and moved on.

“That's right. Come along,” said the housekeeper. “Mr. Evringham likes everybody to be punctual in his house.”

“Oh, has grandpa come home?” inquired Jewel eagerly.

“No, he won't be home for hours yet. Come this way.”

The little girl followed to the dining-room, which she thought quite as wonderful as the clock; but her admiration of all she saw was no longer unmixed. Mrs. Forbes seemed to cast a shadow.

One place was laid at the table, one handsome chair was drawn up to it. Jewel longed to call Anna Belle's attention to the glittering array on the sideboard and behind the crystal doors of cabinets, but something withheld her.

She looked questioningly at the housekeeper. “I think I'll draw up another chair for Anna Belle,” she said.

Mrs. Forbes had already decided, from small signs of assurance, that this Western child was bold. “Give her an inch, and she'll take an ell,” she had said to herself. “I know her sort.”

“Do you mean the doll?” she returned. “Put it down anywhere. You must never bring it to the table. Mr. Evringham wouldn't like it.”

In silence Jewel seated the doll in the nearest chair against the wall, and as she slid up into her own, a neat maid appeared with a puffy and appetizing omelet.

Mrs. Forbes filled the child's glass with water, and the maid set down the omelet and departed.

Jewel's heart sank while Mrs. Forbes presented the souffle.

“I'm sorry,” she began hesitatingly, “I never—I can't”—then she swallowed hard in her desperate plight. “Isn't it pretty?” she said rather breathlessly.

“It's very good,” returned the housekeeper briefly, misconstruing the child's hesitation. “Shall I help you?”

“I—could I have a drink of milk? I don't—I don't eat eggs.”

“Don't eat eggs?” repeated the housekeeper severely. “I'm sorry you have been allowed to be notional. Children should eat what is set before them. Taste of it.”

“I—I couldn't, please.” Jewel's face was averted.

Mrs. Forbes touched an electric bell. The maid reappeared. “Remove the omelet, Sarah, and bring Miss Julia a glass of milk.”

That was the order, but oh, the tone of it! Jewel's heart beat a little faster as she took some bread and butter and drank the milk, Mrs. Forbes standing by, a portentous, solemn, black-robed figure, awful in its silence.

When the child set down the glass empty, she started to push back her chair.

“Wait,” said Mrs. Forbes laconically. She again touched an electric bell. The maid reappeared, removed the bread and milk and served a dainty dessert of preserved peaches, cream, and cake.

“I've really had enough,” said Jewel politely.

“Don't you eat peaches and cream, or cake either?” asked Mrs. Forbes accusingly.

“Yes'm,” returned the child, and ate them without further ado.

“Your trunk has come,” said Mrs. Forbes when at last Jewel slipped down from the table. “I will come up and help you unpack it.”

“If only she wouldn't!” thought the child as she lifted Anna Belle, but the housekeeper preceded her up the stairs, breathing rather heavily.

Sure enough, when they reached the white room, there stood the new trunk that had been packed with so much anticipation. The bright black letters on the side, J. E., had power even now to send a little glow of pride through its possessor. She stole a glance at Mrs. Forbes, but, strange as it may appear, the housekeeper gave no evidence of admiration.

“I don't need to trouble you, Mrs. Forbes. I can unpack it,” said the child.

“I'm up here now, and anyway, I'd better show you where to keep your things. Where's your key?”

Jewel laid down the doll and opened her leather side-bag, producing the key tied with a little ribbon.

Mrs. Forbes unlocked the trunk, lifted out the tray, and began in a business-like manner to dispose of the small belongings that had last been handled so tenderly.

“Mrs. Harry certainly knows how to pack,” ran her thoughts, “and she'd naturally know how to sew. These things are as neat as wax, and the child's well fixed.” In the tray, among other things, were a number of doll's clothes, some writing materials, a box of different colored hair ribbons, and a few books.

“Glad to see a Bible,” thought Mrs. Forbes. “Shows Mrs. Harry is respectable.” She glanced at the three other books. One was a copy of “Heidi,” one was “Alice in Wonderland,” and the third a small black book with the design of a cross and crown in gilt on the cover. Mrs. Forbes looked from this up at the child.

“What's this? Some kind of a daily book, Julia?”

“I—yes, I read it every day.”

“Well, I hope you'll be faithful now your mother's gone. She's taken the trouble to put it in.”

Jewel's eyes had caught a glimpse of green color. Eagerly she reached down into the trunk and drew out carefully a dress in tiny checks of green and white.

“That's my silk dress,” she said, regarding it fondly.

“It is very neatly made,” returned Mrs. Forbes repressively. “It doesn't matter at all what little girls have on if they are clean and neat. It only matters that they shall be obedient and good.”

Jewel regarded her with the patience which children exercise toward the inevitable. “I'd like to fix Anna Belle's drawer myself,” she said modestly.

“Very well, you may. Now here are your shoes and slippers, but I don't find any rubbers.”

“No, I never wear rubbers.”

“What? Doesn't it rain in Chicago?”

“Oh yes indeed, it rains.”

“Then you must get your feet wet. I think you better have had rubbers than a silk dress! What was your mother thinking of?”

Jewel sighed vaguely. She wondered how soon Mrs. Forbes would go away.

This happy event occurred before long, and the little girl amused herself for a while with rearranging somewhat the closet and drawers. Then putting on her hat and taking her doll with her, she stole quietly down the thickly carpeted stairs, and opening the heavy hall door, went out upon the piazza. It was sheltered from the wind, and wicker chairs were scattered about. Jewel looked off curiously amid the trees to where she knew, by her father's description, she should find, after a few minutes' ramble, the ravine and brook. Pretty soon she would wander out there. Just now the sun was warm here, and the roomy chairs held out inviting arms. The child climbed into one of them. Father would come back here some happy day and find her. The thought brought a smile, and with the smile on her lips, her head fell back against a yielding cushion, and in a minute she had fallen asleep. Anna Belle toppled over backward. Her plumed hat was pushed rakishly askew, but little she cared. Her eyelids had fallen, too.

Mrs. Evringham and Eloise, returning late from their luncheon, came upon the little sleeping figure as they walked around the long piazza.

“There she is!” exclaimed Mrs. Evringham softly, putting up her lorgnette. “Behold your rival!”

Eloise regarded the sleeper without curiosity.

“At least she has not come uninvited,” was her only comment.

“But she has come unwelcome, my dear,” returned Mrs. Evringham with relish. “Just wait until our gracious host realizes what he has let himself in for. Oh, there's a good time coming, you may be sure. Hush, don't waken her! It would be a blessed dispensation if she were always to sleep while her grandfather is absent,” and Mrs. Evringham led the way into the house, her laces fluttering.

On the first landing the ladies met Mrs. Forbes, troubled of countenance.

“I am looking for the child Julia,” she said. “I can't think where she can have disappeared.”

“You've not far to seek,” returned Mrs. Evringham airily. “She is asleep on the piazza.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Forbes hastened downstairs and out of doors. Glancing about she quickly perceived the short legs stretched in a reclining chair, and advanced toward the relaxed little figure.

“Julia, wake up!” she said, touching her.

The child stirred and opened her eyes. Her movement made the doll slip to the floor, and this caused her to come to herself suddenly.

“Why, I fell asleep, didn't I?” she said drowsily, reaching for the doll.

“Yes, and in Mr. Evringham's own chair!” responded Mrs. Forbes.

“They're all his, aren't they?” asked the child.

“Yes, but this is his special favorite, where he always lies to rest. Remember!” returned Mrs. Forbes. “Come right upstairs now and change your dress for dinner. He will be coming home in a few minutes.”

“Oh, good!” exclaimed Jewel with satisfaction, and passed into the house. Mrs. Forbes was following ponderously. “Oh, you don't need to come with me,” protested the child earnestly. “I can do it all myself.”

“Are you sure?” doubtfully.

“Oh, ye—es!” replied the little girl, running lightly up the stairs.

“I ought to put her on the second floor,” mused Mrs. Forbes, “if I've got to be running up and down; but I suppose she has done for herself a great deal. I suppose the mother hadn't time to be bothered. I'd like to make Mamzell change rooms with her.”

Jewel hummed a tune as she took off her sailor suit, performed her ablutions, and then went to her closet to choose a frock for dinner. She decided on a blue dress with white dots chiefly because she would not have to change her hair ribbons. She had never herself tied those voluminous bows.

At last she was ready and danced toward the door, but some novel timidity made her hesitate and go back sedately to the chair by the window. Mrs. Forbes's impressive figure seemed to loom up with an order to her to wait the summons of the gong.

She sat there for what seemed a very long time, and at last a knock sounded at the door. Perhaps grandpa had come up. Jewel flew to open to him—and saw the white capped maid who had appeared at luncheon.

“They are all at table, and Mr. Evringham wishes you to come down,” she said.

“But I was waiting for the gong.”

“We only have that at noon.”

Jewel's feet flew down the stairs. Her grandfather had sent for her. She was eager to reach him, yet when she entered the dining-room, her little face all alight, it was not so easy to run to him as she had fancied.

He sat stiffly at the foot of the table. Opposite him was aunt Madge, and at her left sat the prettiest young lady the child had ever seen.

Mrs. Forbes stood near Mr. Evringham, looking very serious.

Jewel took in all this at a glance, and contenting herself with greeting her grandfather's lifted eyes with a smile, she ran to Mrs. Evringham and turned her back.

“There's just one button in the middle, aunt Madge, that I can't reach,” she explained softly.

Every eye at the table was regarding the child curiously, but she took no note of any one but her grandfather, and her dress buttoned, she ran to her chair and slid up on its smooth morocco. Eloise observed the little girl's loving expression.

“I am sorry you are late, Julia,” said Mr. Evringham.

“Yes, so am I, grandpa,” was the prompt response. “I wanted to be down here as soon as you came home, but I thought I ought to wait for the gong, and then it didn't ring.”

Her eyes roved to where, directly opposite, the beautiful young lady was regarding her soberly.

Mrs. Evringham spoke. “That is your cousin Eloise, Julia.”

Eloise inclined her graceful head, but made no further recognition of the child's admiring look.

“They haven't met before?” said Mr. Evringham, looking from one to the other.

“No,” returned Mrs. Evringham with her most gracious manner. “It just happened that Eloise and I were engaged at luncheon to-day, and when we returned the little girl was taking a nap.”

By this time Mrs. Forbes had brought Jewel's soup and she was eating. She looked up brightly at Mr. Evringham.

“Yes, grandpa, I went to sleep in your big chair on the piazza. I didn't know it was your special chair until Mrs. Forbes waked me up.”

Her grandfather regarded her from under his heavy brows. He was resenting the fact that Eloise had made no effort to welcome the child. “Indeed?” he returned. “What did she wake you up for?”

“Because it was time to get ready for dinner,” returned Jewel. “It reminded me of the story of Golden Hair, when she had gone to sleep on the bear's bed, the way Mrs. Forbes said, 'This is your grandfather's chair!'”

She looked around the table, expectant of sympathy. Only Mrs. Evringham seemed to wish to laugh, and she was making heroic efforts not to do so. Lovely Eloise kept her serious eyes downcast.

“Ha!” ejaculated Mr. Evringham, after a lightning glance of suspicion at his daughter-in-law. “I think I remember something about that. But Golden Hair tried three beds, I believe.”

“Yes, she did, but you see there wasn't any little bear's chair on the piazza.”

“Very true. Very true.”

“Golden Hair was a great beauty, I believe,” suggested Mrs. Evringham, looking at the child oddly. “She had yellow hair like yours.”

Jewel put up a quick hand to the short tight braid which ended behind her ear. “Oh no, long, lovely, floating hair. Don't you remember?”

“It's a good while since I read it,” returned Mrs. Evringham, laughing low and glancing at Eloise. Her father-in-law sent her a look of displeasure and turned back to Jewel.

“Dr. Ballard found you on the train, I suppose?”

“Yes, grandpa. We had a nice time. He is a very kind man.” The child glanced across at her cousin again. She wished cousin Eloise would lift her eyes and not look so sorry. “I wonder,” she added aloud, “why Dr. Ballard called cousin Eloise a little girl.”

No one spoke, so Mrs. Evringham broke the momentary silence. “Did he?” she asked.

“Yes, he said that my cousin Eloise was a very charming little girl.”

Jewel wondered why Eloise flushed and looked still sorrier, and why aunt Madge raised her napkin and turned her laugh into a cough. Perhaps it teased young ladies to be called little girls. Jewel regretted having mentioned it.

“I guess he was just April-fooling me,” she suggested comfortingly, and the insistence of her soft gaze was such that Eloise looked up and met a smile so irresistible, that in spite of herself, her expression relaxed.

The softened look was a relief to the child. “I've heard about you, of course, cousin Eloise,” she said, “and I couldn't forget, because your name is so nice and—and slippery. Eloise Evringham. Eloise Evringham. It sounds just like—like—oh, like sliding down the banisters. Don't you think so?”

Eloise smiled a little. “I hadn't thought of it,” she returned, then relapsed into quiet.

Mrs. Forbes's countenance was stony. “Children should be seen and not heard,” was her doctrine, and this dressmaker's child had an assurance beyond belief. She seemed to feel no awe whatever in her grandfather's presence.

The housekeeper caught Jewel's eye and gave her such a quenching look that thenceforward the little girl succumbed to the silence which the others seemed to prefer.

After dinner she would have a good visit with grandpa and talk about when father was a little boy. Her hopes were dashed, for just as they were rising from the table, a man was announced, with whom Mr. Evringham closeted himself in the library.

In the drawing-room aunt Madge and cousin Eloise both set themselves at letter-writing, and entirely ignored Jewel. The child looked listlessly at a book with pictures, which she found on the table, until half-past eight, when Mrs. Forbes came to say it was time for her to go to bed.

She rose and stood a moment, turning hesitatingly from her aunt to her cousin.

“Oh, is it bedtime?” asked aunt Madge, looking up from her letter. “Good-night, Julia. I hope you'll sleep well.” Then she returned to her writing.

Eloise bit her lip as she regarded the little girl with a moment's hesitation, but no, she had decided on her plan of action. Mrs. Forbes was observing her. Eloise knew the housekeeper's attitude toward them was defensive, if not offensive. “Good-night,” she said briefly, and looked down again.

“Good-night,” returned Jewel quietly, and went out.

In the hall she hesitated. “I want to say good-night to grandpa,” she said.

“Well, you can't,” returned Mrs. Forbes decidedly. “He is talking business and mustn't be disturbed.”

She followed the child up the staircase.

“I could go to bed alone, if I only knew where the matches are.”

“You said you could dress alone, but you had to ask Mrs. Evringham to button your frock. Remember after this that I am the one to ask. She and Miss Eloise don't want to be bothered.”

“Is it a bother to do a kindness?” asked Jewel in a subdued tone.

“To some folks it is,” was the response. They had reached the door of the child's room; “but some folks can see their duty and do it,” she added virtuously.

Jewel realized regretfully that her present companion belonged to the latter class.

“Now here, right inside the door,” proceeded Mrs. Forbes, “is the switch. There's electricity all over this house, and you don't need any matches. See?” Mrs. Forbes turned the switch and the white room was flooded with light.

A few hours ago this magic would have evoked much enthusiasm. Even now Jewel was pleased to turn the light on and off several times, as Mrs. Forbes told her to do.

“Now I'll see if you can undress yourself,” said the housekeeper. Jewel's deft fingers flew over the buttons in her eagerness to prove her independence. When at last she stood in her little white nightgown, so neat and fine in its small decorations, Mrs. Forbes said, “Do you want me to hear you say your prayers?”

“No, I thank you.” With her hasty response Jewel promptly jumped into the bed, from which the white spread had been removed.

“I hope you always say them,” said Mrs. Forbes, regarding her undecidedly.

“Yes'm, I always do.”

The child cuddled down under the covers with her face to the wall, lest Mrs. Forbes should see a further duty and do it.

“You ought to say them on your knees,” continued the housekeeper.

“I'd just as lief,” replied Jewel, “but I don't believe God cares.”

“Well,” returned Mrs. Forbes solemnly, “it is a matter for your own conscience, Julia, if your mother didn't train you to it. Good-night.”

“Good-night,” came faintly from beneath the bedclothes.

Mrs. Forbes turned off the light and went out, closing the door behind her.

“If she'd always speak when she's spoken to, and be quiet and modest as she is with me, she'd be a very well-behaved child,” she soliloquized. “I could train her. I shouldn't wonder at all if her mother should see a great difference in her when she comes back.”

The housekeeper went heavily downstairs. Jewel, pushing off the bedclothes, listened attentively to the retiring steps, and when they could no longer be heard, she jumped out of bed nimbly, and feeling for the electric switch, turned on the light. Her breath was coming rather unevenly, and she ran over the soft carpet to where her doll lay. Catching her up, she pressed her to her breast, then sitting down in the big chair, she began to undress her, crossing one little bare foot over the other knee to make a lap.

“Darling Anna Belle, did you think I'd forgotten you?” she asked breathlessly. “Did you think you weren't going to have any one to kiss you good-night? It's hard not to have any one you love kiss you good-night.” Jewel dashed her hand across her eyes quickly, then went swiftly on with her work. “You might have known that I was only waiting until that—that giantess went away. She wouldn't let me bring you down to dinner, dearie, but you didn't miss anything. Poor grandpa, I don't wonder any longer that he doesn't look happy. He has the sorriest people all around him that you ever saw. He lives in a big, beautiful castle, but it's Castle Discord. I named it that at dinner. Nobody loves one another. Of course grandpa loves me, because I'm his own little grandchild, but he's too sorry to show it. The beautiful enchanted maiden, and the Error fairy, and the giantess, are all making discord around him. A little flat is better than a big castle, isn't it? We know a flat—let's call it Harmony Flat, Anna Belle. Perhaps if we're very, very, good, we'll get back there some time.” Jewel suddenly pressed the doll's nightdress against her wet eyes. “Don't, don't, dearie! I know it does seem a year since—since the boat this morning. If all the days were as long as this, we'd be very, very old when father and mother come home.” The soft voice broke in a sob. “I don't know what I should do if you weren't a Christian Scientist, Anna Belle. We'll help each other all we can. Now come—come into bed and say your prayers.”

“Say your—your prayer first, dearie,” she whispered, sobbing:—

“Now you'll feel—better, dearie. In a minute you won't be so—homesick for—for—father and mother. Hush, while I say mine.”

Jewel repeated the Lord's Prayer. When she had finished, her breath still caught convulsively, so she continued:—

“Dear Father, Mother, God, loving me, help me to know that I am close to Thee. Help me to remember that things that are unhappy aren't real things. Help me to know that everything is good and harmonious, and that the people in this castle are Thy children, even if they do seem to have eyes like fishes. Help me to love one another, even the giantess, and please show grandpa how to meet error. Please let Dr. Ballard come to see me soon, because he has kind eyes, and I'm sure he doesn't know it's wrong to believe in materia medica. Please take more care of father and mother than anything, and say 'Peace be still' if the wind blows the sea. I know, dear Father in Heaven, that Thou dost not forget anything, but I say it to make me feel better. I am Thy little Jewel, and Anna Belle loves Thee, too. Take us into the everlasting arms of Love while we go to sleep. Amen.”

Jewel brushed away the tears as she ceased, and with her usual quickness of motion, jumped out of bed to get a handkerchief. Turning on the electric light, she went to the chair over which hung the dotted dress. She remembered having slipped a clean handkerchief into its pocket before going to dinner.

In reaching for it her fingers encountered a scrap of paper in the depths of the pocket. She drew it forth. It was folded. She opened it and found it written over in a clear round hand.

“Is my little darling loving every one around her? People do not always seem lovely at first, but remember that every one is lovable because he is a thought of God. Those who seem unlovely are always unhappy, too, in their hearts. We must help them, and the best way to help is to love. Mother is thinking about her little Jewel, and no seas can divide us.”

A slow smile gladdened the child's tear-stained face. She read the message again, then turned out the light for the last time and cuddled down in bed, her warm cheek pressing the scrap of paper in her hand, her breath still catching.

“Mother has spoken to us, Anna Belle,” she whispered, clasping the doll close. “Wasn't it just like God to let her!” Then she fell asleep smiling.