Jewel: A Chapter in Her Life E-Book

Clara Louise Burnham

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Seitenzahl: 384

Beschreibung

"Now you polish up those buckles real good, won't you, 'Zekiel? I will say for Fanshaw, you could most see your face in the harness always." The young fellow addressed rubbed away at the nickel plating good humoredly, although he had heard enough exhortations in the last twenty-four hours to chafe somewhat the spirit of youth. His mother, a large, heavy woman, stood over him, her face full of care. "It's a big change from driving a grocery wagon to driving a gentleman's carriage, 'Zekiel. I do hope you sense it." "You'd make a bronze image sense it, mother," answered the young man, smiling broadly. "You might sit and sermonize just as well, mightn't you? Sitting's as cheap as standing,"-he cast a glance around the clean spaces of the barn in search of a chair,-"or if you'd rather go and attend to your knitting, I've seen harness before, you know." "I'm not sure as you've ever handled a gentleman's harness in your life, 'Zekiel Forbes." "It's a fact they don't wear 'em much down Boston way."

Leseprobe

Jewel: A Chapter in Her Life

Jewel: A Chapter in Her LifeCHAPTER ICHAPTER IICHAPTER IIICHAPTER IVCHAPTER VCHAPTER VICHAPTER VIICHAPTER VIIICHAPTER IXCHAPTER XCHAPTER XICHAPTER XIICHAPTER XIIICHAPTER XIVCHAPTER XVCHAPTER XVICHAPTER XVIICHAPTER XVIIICHAPTER XIXCHAPTER XXCHAPTER XXICHAPTER XXIICHAPTER XXIIICHAPTER XXIVCHAPTER XXVCHAPTER XXVICHAPTER XXVIICHAPTER XXVIIICopyright

Jewel: A Chapter in Her Life

Clara Louise Burnham

CHAPTER I

THE NEW COACHMAN"Now you polish up those buckles real good, won't you, 'Zekiel? I will say for Fanshaw, you could most see your face in the harness always."The young fellow addressed rubbed away at the nickel plating good humoredly, although he had heard enough exhortations in the last twenty-four hours to chafe somewhat the spirit of youth. His mother, a large, heavy woman, stood over him, her face full of care."It's a big change from driving a grocery wagon to driving a gentleman's carriage, 'Zekiel. I do hope you sense it.""You'd make a bronze image sense it, mother," answered the young man, smiling broadly. "You might sit and sermonize just as well, mightn't you? Sitting's as cheap as standing,"—he cast a glance around the clean spaces of the barn in search of a chair,—"or if you'd rather go and attend to your knitting, I've seen harness before, you know.""I'm not sure as you've ever handled a gentleman's harness in your life, 'Zekiel Forbes.""It's a fact they don't wear 'em much down Boston way."His mother regarded his shock of light hair with repressed fondness."It was a big responsibility I took when I asked Mr. Evringham to let you try the place," she said solemnly, "and I'm going to do my best to help you fill it. It does seem almost a providence the way Fanshaw's livery fits you; and if you'll hold yourself up, I may be partial, but it seems to me you look better in it than he ever did; and I'm sure if handsome is as handsome does, you'll fill it better every way, even if hewasa fashionable English coachman. Mrs. Evringham was so pleased with his style she tried to have him kept even after he'd taken too much for the second time; but Mr. Evringham valued his horses too highly for that, I can tell you.""Thought the governor was a widower still," remarked Ezekiel as his mother drew forward a battered chair and dusted it with the huge apron that covered her neat dress. She seated herself close to her boy."Of course he is," she returned with some asperity. "Why should he get married with such a home as he's got? Fifteen years I've kept house for Mr. Evringham. I don't believe but what he'd say that in all that time he's never found his beef overdone or a button off his shirts.""Humph!" grunted Ezekiel. "He looks as if he wouldn't mind hanging you to the nearest tree if he did. I heard tell once that there was a cold hell as well as a hot one. Think says I, when the governor was looking me over the other day, 'You've set sail for the cold place, old boy.'""Zeke Forbes, don't you ever let me hear you say such a thing again!" exclaimed Mrs. Forbes. "Mr. Evringham is the finest gentleman within one hundred miles of New York city. When a man has spent his life in Wall Street it's bound to show some in his face, of course; but what comfort has that man ever known?""Pretty scrumptious place he's got here in this park, I notice," returned the new coachman."Yes, he has a breath of fresh air before he goes to the city and after he gets back every day. Isn't that Essex Maid of his a beauty?" Mrs. Forbes cast her eyes towards the stalls where the shining flanks of two horses were visible from her seat by the wide-open doors of the barn. "His rides back there among the hills,"—Mrs. Forbes waved her hand vaguely toward the tall trees waving in the spring sunshine,—"are his one pleasure; and he never tires of them. You will find the horses here something different to groom from those common grocery horses in Boston.""Oh, I don't know," drawled 'Zekiel, teasingly."Then you'd better know, young man," emphatically. "And, Zeke, what's the names of those carriages?" pointing with sudden energy at two half shrouded vehicles."How many guesses do I get?""Guessing ain't going to do. Do you know, or don't you?""Know? Why," leniently, "bless your heart, mother, don't you s'pose I know a buggy and a carryall when I see 'em?""Oh, you poor benighted grocery boy!" Mrs. Forbes raised her hands. "What a mercy I mentioned it! Imagine Mrs. Evringham hearing you ask if she'd have the buggy or the carryall! 'Zekiel," solemnly, "listen to me. That tall one's a spider, and the other's a broom. There! Do you hear me? Aspiderand abroom!"Ezekiel's merry eyes met the anxious ones with a twinkle."Who'd have thought it!" he responded."Now then, Zeke," anxiously, "it's my responsibility. I recommended you. I want you should say 'em off as glib as Fanshaw did. Now then, which is which?""Mother, didn't you tell me that the late lamented was not a prohibitionist?""Fanshaw drank like a fish, if that's what you mean.""Well, just because he saw things in this barn you needn't expect me to! Poor chap! Spiders and brooms! He must have been glad to go."Mrs. Forbes' earnest expression did not change. "'Zekiel, don't you tease, now! We haven't got time. I want you to make such a success of this that you'll stay with me. You can't think how I felt when I woke up this morning and thought the first thing, 'Zeke's here.' Why, I've scarcely kept acquainted with you for fifteen years. Scarcely saw you except for a few weeks in the summer time. Now I've got you again!""I ain't the only thing you've got again," grinned 'Zekiel, "if you're going to see things, same as Fanshaw did."Thus reminded, the housekeeper looked back at the phaeton and the brougham. "Be a good boy, Zeke," coaxingly, "and don't forget now, because Mrs. Evringham is a great stickler—and a great sticker, too," added Mrs. Forbes in a different tone."Whoisthe old woman, if the governor isn't married?" asked Ezekiel with not very lively interest. "She don't seem popular with you.""I'll tell you who she is," returned his mother in a low, emphatic tone. "she's just what I say—a sticker and an interloper.""H'm! Shouldn't wonder if the green-eyed monster had got after mamma," soliloquized the youth aloud. "Somebody else sews on the buttons now, perhaps.""'Zekiel Forbes, we must have an understanding right off. You've got to joke and tease, I s'pose, but it can't be about Mr. Evringham. This is like a law of the Medes and Persians, and I want you should understand it. The more you see of him the less you'll dare to joke about him.""I told you he scared me stiff," acknowledged Zeke, running the harness through his hands to discover another dingy spot."Well, he'dbetter. Now I wouldn't gossip to you of my employer's affairs—I hope we're better than two common servants—but I want you to be as loyal to him as I am, and to understand a few of the reasons why he can't go giggling around like some folks.""Great Scott!" interpolated the young coachman. "Mr. Evringham go giggling around! So would Bunker Hill monument!""Listen to me, Zeke. Mr. Evringham has had two sons. His wife died when the oldest, Lawrence, was fifteen. Well, both those boys disappointed him. Lawrence when he was twenty-one married secretly a widow older than himself, who had a little girl named Eloise. Mr. Evringham made the best of it, and helped him along in business. Lawrence became a broker and had made and lost a fortune when he died at the age of thirty-five.""Broke himself, did he?" remarked the irrepressible 'Zekiel."Yes, he did. Here we were, living in peace and comfort,—my employer at sixty a man of settled habits and naturally very set in his ways and satisfied with his home and the way I had run it for him for fifteen years,—when three blows fell on him at once. Firstly his son Lawrence failed and was ruined; secondly he died; and thirdly his widow and her daughter nineteen years old came here a couple of months ago and settled on Mr. Evringham, and here they've stayed ever since! I don't think they have an idea of going away." Mrs. Forbes's eyes snapped. "Such an upset as it was! I couldn't show how I felt, of course, for it was so much worse for him than it was for me. He had never cared for Mrs. Evringham, and scarcely knew the girl who called him 'grandfather' without an atom of right.""Hard lines," observed 'Zekiel. "Does the girl call herself Evringham?""Does she?" with scorn. "Well I guess she does. Of course she was only four when her mother married Lawrence, and I guess she was fond of her stepfather and he of her, because he never had any children; but sometimes I ask myself, is it going on forever? I only hope Eloise'll get married soon."'Zekiel dropped the harness to arrange imaginary curls on his temples and pat the tie on his muscular neck. "If she's pretty I'm willing," he responded.His mother shook her head absently. "Then there was Mr. Evringham's younger son, a regular roving ne'er-do-well. He didn't like Wall Street and he went West to Chicago. He was a rolling stone, first in one position and then in another; then he got married, and after a few years he rolled away altogether. All Mr. Evringham knows about him and his family is that he had one child. Harry wrote a few letters about his wife Julia and the baby, at the time it was born, and Mr. Evringham sent a present of money; then the letters ceased until one day the wife wrote him frantically that her husband had disappeared and begged to know where he was. Mr. Evringham knew nothing about him and wrote her so, and that is the last he's heard. So you see if he looks cold and hard, he's had enough to make him so.""H'm!" ejaculated 'Zekiel. "He don't give the impression of lyin' awake nights wondering how his deserted daughter-in-law and the kid make out.""Why should he?" retorted Mrs. Forbes sharply. "His two boys acted as selfish to him as boys could. He's a disappointed, humiliated man in that proud heart of his. He's been hunted out and harrowed up in this peaceful retreat, when all he asked was to be let alone with his horses and his golf clubs, and I think one daughter-in-law's enough under the circumstances. I have some respect for Mrs. Harry, whoever she is, because she lets him alone. In all the long years we've spent here, when he often had no one to talk to but me, he's let me have a glimpse of these things, and I've told you so's you'd think right about him and serve him all the better.""He's got a look in his eyes like cold steel," remarked Ezekiel, "and lines under 'em like they'd been drawn with steel; and his back's as flat and straight as if a steel rod took the place of a spine. That thick gray hair and mustache of his might be steel threads.""He's a splendid sight on horseback," responded Mrs. Forbes devoutly. "His sons were neither of 'em ever the man he is. I'd like to protect him from being imposed upon if such a thing was possible.""Sho!" drawled 'Zekiel. "Might's well talk about protecting a battleship.""Well, 'Zekiel Forbes," returned his mother, her eyes bright, "can't you imagine a battleship hesitating to run down a little pleasure yacht with all its flags flying? And can't you imagine that hesitation costing the battleship considerable precious time and money? You've said a good deal about my sacrificing my room in the house and coming out here to fix a little home for us both, upstairs in the barn chambers, but perhaps you can see now that it isn't all sacrifice, that perhaps I'm glad of an excuse to get out of the house, where things are so different from what they used to be, and to have a cosy home with my own boy. Now then, 'Zekiel," coaxingly, these words recalling her boy's responsibilities, "look over there once more and tell me which of those is the spider."Zekiel dropped the harness and laid his hand gently on his mother's forehead. "There isn't anything there, dear mother," he said soothingly."Zeke!" she exclaimed, jerking away with a short reluctant laugh."'Mother, dear mother, come home with me now,'" he roared sentimentally, so that Essex Maid lifted her beautiful head and looked out in surprise. "Remember Fanshaw, and put more water in it after this," he added, dropping his arm to his mother's neck and capturing her with a hug."'Zekiel!" she protested. "'Zekiel!"

CHAPTER II

THE CHICAGO LETTER

The mother was still laughing and struggling in the irresistible embrace when both became aware that a third person was regarding them in open-mouthed astonishment.

"'Zekiel, let mego!" commanded the scandalized woman, and pushed herself free from her tormentor, who forthwith returned rather sheepishly to his buckles.

The young man with trim-pointed beard and mirthful eyes, who stood in the driveway, had just dismounted from a shining buggy. Doubt and astonishment were apparently holding him dumb.

The housekeeper, smoothing her disarranged locks and much flushed of face, returned his gaze, rising from her chair.

"I couldn't believe it was you, Mrs. Forbes!" declared the newcomer. "Fanshaw isn't—" He looked around vaguely.

"No, he isn't, Dr. Ballard," returned Mrs. Forbes shortly. "He forgot to rub down Essex Maid one evening when she came in hot, and that finished him with Mr. Evringham."

The young doctor's lips twitched beneath his mustache as he looked at 'Zekiel, polishing away for dear life.

"You seem to have some one else here—some friend," he remarked tentatively.

"Friend!" echoed the housekeeper with exasperation, feeling to see just how much Zeke had rumpled her immaculate collar. "We looked like friends when you came up, didn't we!"

"Like intimate friends," murmured the doctor, still looking curiously at the big fair-haired fellow, who was crimson to his temples.

"I don't know how long we shall continue friends if he ever grabs me again like that just after I've put on a clean collar. He's got beyond the place where I can correct him. I ought to have done it oftener when I had the chance. This is my boy 'Zekiel, Dr. Ballard," with a proud glance in the direction of the youth, who looked up and nodded, then continued his labors. "Mr. Evringham has engaged him on trial. He's been with horses a couple of years, and I guess he'll make out all right."

"Glad to know you, 'Zekiel," returned the doctor. "Your mother has been a good friend of mine half my life, and I've often heard her speak of you. Look out for my horse, will you? I shall be here half an hour or so."

When the doctor had moved off toward the house Mrs. Forbes nodded at her son knowingly.

"Might's well walk Hector into the barn and uncheck him, Zeke," she said. "They'll keep him more'n a half an hour. That young man, 'Zekiel Forbes,—that young man's myhope." Mrs. Forbes spoke impressively and shook her forefinger to emphasize her words.

"What you hoping about him?" asked 'Zekiel, laying down the harness and proceeding to lead the gray horse up the incline into the barn.

"Shouldn't wonder a mite if he was our deliverer," went on Mrs. Forbes. "I saw it in Mrs. Evringham's eye that he suited her, the first night that she met him here at dinner. I like him first-rate, and I don't mean him any harm; but he's one of these young doctors with plenty of money at his back, bound to have a fashionable practice and succeed. His face is in his favor, and I guess he knows as much as any of 'em, and he can afford the luxury of a wife brought up the way Eloise Evringham has been. That's right, Zeke. Unfasten the check-rein, though the doctor don't use a mean one, I must say. I only hope there's a purgatory for the folks that use too short check-reins on their horses. I hope they'll have to wear 'em themselves for a thousand years, and have to stand waiting at folks' doors frothing at the mouth, and the back of their necks half breaking when the weather's down to zero and up to a hundred. That's what I hope!"

'Zekiel grinned. "You want 'em to try the cold place and the hot one too, do you?"

"Yes I do, and to stay in the one that hurts the most. The man that uses a decent check-rein on his horse," continued Mrs. Forbes, dropping into a philosophizing tone, "is apt to be as decent to his wife. The doctor would be a great catch for that girl, and Ithink," dropping her voice, "her mother'd be liable to live with 'em."

"You're keeping that dark from the doctor, I s'pose?" remarked 'Zekiel.

"H'm. You needn't think I go chattering around that house the way I do out here. I've got a great talent, if I do say it, for minding my own business."

"Good enough," drawled 'Zekiel. "I heard tell once of a firm that made a great fortune just doing that one thing."

"Don't you be sassy now. I've always waited on Mr. Evringham while he ate his meals, and that's the time he'd often speak out to me about things if he felt in the humor, so that in all these years 't isn't any wonder if I've come to feel that his business is mine too."

"Just so," returned 'Zekiel, with a twinkle in his eye.

"It's been as plain as your nose that the interlopers don't like to have me there. Not that they have anything special against me, but they'd like to have someone younger and stylisher to hand them their plates. I'll never forget one night when they'd been here about a week, and I think Mr. Evringham had begun to suspect they were fixtures,—I'd felt it from the first,—Mrs. Evringham said, 'Why father, does Mrs. Forbes always wait on your table? I had supposed she was temporarily taking the place of your butler or your waitress.'"

The housekeeper's effort to imitate the airy manner she remembered caused her son to chuckle as he gathered up the shining harness.

"You should have seen the look Mr. Evringham gave her. Just as if he didn't see her at all. 'Yes,' he answered, 'I hope Mrs. Forbes will wait on my table as long as I have one.' And I will if I have my health," added the speaker, bridling with renewed pleasure at the memory of that triumphant moment. "They think I'm a machine without any feelings or opinions, and that I've been wound up to suit Mr. Evringham and run his establishment, and that I'm no more to be considered than the big Westminster clock on the stairs. Mrs. Evringham did try once to get into my employer's rooms and look after his clothes." Mrs. Forbes shook her head and tightened her lips at some recollection.

"She bucked up against the machine, did she?" inquired Zeke.

The housekeeper glanced around to see if any one might be approaching.

"I saw her go in there, and I followed her," she continued almost in a whisper. "She sort of started, but spoke up in her cool way, 'I wish to look over father's clothes and see if anything needs attention.' 'Thank you, Mrs. Evringham, but everything is in order,' I said, very respectful. 'Well, leave it for me next time, Mrs. Forbes,' she says. 'I shall take care of him while I am here.' 'Thank you,' says I, 'but he wouldn't want your visit interfered with by that kind of work.' She looked at me sort of suspicious and haughty. 'I prefer to do it,' she answers, trying to look holes in me with her big eyes. 'Then will you ask him, please,' said I very polite, 'before I give you the keys, because we've got into habits here. I've taken care of Mr. Evringham's clothes for fifteen years.' She looked kind of set back. 'Is it so long?' she asks. 'Well, I will see about it.' But I guess the right time for seeing about it never came," added the housekeeper knowingly.

"You're still doing business at the old stand, eh?" rejoined Zeke. "Well, I'm glad you like your job. It's my opinion that the governor's harder—"

"Ahem, ahem!" Mrs. Forbes cleared her throat with desperate loudness and tugged at her son's shirt sleeve with an energy which caused him to wheel.

Coming up the sunny driveway was a tall man with short, scrupulously brushed iron-gray hair, and sweeping mustache. The lines under his eyes were heavy, his glance was cold. His presence was dignified, commanding, repellent.

The housekeeper and coachman both stood at attention, the latter mechanically pulling down his rolled-up sleeves.

"So you're moving out here, Mrs. Forbes," was the remark with which the newcomer announced himself.

"Yes, Mr. Evringham. The man has been here to put in the electric bell you ordered. I shall be as quick to call as if I was still in the house, sir, and I thank you—'Zekiel and I both do—for consenting to my making it home-like for him. Perhaps you'd come up and see the rooms, sir?"

"Not just now. Some other time. I hope 'Zekiel is going to prove himself worth all this trouble."

The new coachman's countenance seemed frozen into a stolidity which did not alter.

"I'm sure he'll try," replied his mother, "and Fanshaw's livery fits him to such a turn that it would have been flying in the face of Providence not to try him. Did you give orders to be met at this train, sir?" Mrs. Forbes looked anxiously toward the set face of her heir.

"No—I came out unexpectedly. I have received news that is rather perplexing."

The housekeeper had not studied her employer's moods for years without understanding when she could be of use.

"I will come to the house right off," was her prompt response. "It's a pity you didn't know the bell was in, sir."

"No, stay where you are. I see Dr. Ballard is here. We might be interrupted. You can go, 'Zekiel."

The young fellow needed no second invitation, but turned and mounted the stairway that led to the chambers above.

Mr. Evringham took from his pocket a bunch of papers, and selecting a letter handed it to Mrs. Forbes, motioning her to the battered chair, which was still in evidence. He seated himself on the stool Zeke had vacated, while his housekeeper opened and read the following letter:—

CHICAGO, April 28, 19—.

DEAR FATHER,—The old story of the Prodigal Son has always plenty of originality for the Prodigal. I have returned, and thank Heaven sincerely I do not need to ask you for anything. My blessed girl Julia has supported herself and little Jewel these years while I've been feeding on husks. I don't see now how I was willing to be so revoltingly cruel and cowardly as to leave her in the lurch, but she has made friends and they have stood by her, and now I've been back since September, doing all in my power to make up what I can to her and Jewel, as we call little Julia. They were treasures to return to such as I deserved to have lost forever; but Julia treats me as if I'd been white to her right all along. I've lately secured a position that I hope to keep. My wife has been dressmaking, and this is something in the dry goods line that I got through her. The firm want us to go to Europe to do some buying. They will pay the expenses of both; but that leaves Jewel. I've heard that Lawrence's wife and daughter are living with you. I wondered if you'd let us bring Jewel as far as New York and drop her with you for the six weeks that we shall be gone. If we had a little more ahead we'd take the child with us. She is eight years old and wouldn't be any trouble, but cash is scarce, and although we could board her here with some friend, I'd like to have her become acquainted with her grandfather, and I thought as Madge and Eloise were with you, they would look after her if Mrs. Forbes is no longer there. This has all come about very suddenly, and we sail next Wednesday on the Scythia, so I'll be much obliged if you will wire me. I shall be glad to shake your hand again.

Your repentant son,

HARRY.

Mrs. Forbes looked up from the letter to find her employer's eyes upon her. Her lips were set in a tight line.

"Well?" he asked.

"I'd like to ask first, sir, what you think of it?"

"It strikes me as very cool. Harry knows my habits."

The housekeeper loosened the reins of her indignation.

"The idea of your having a child here to clatter up and down the stairs at the very time you want to take a nap!" she burst forth. "You've had enough to bear already."

"A deal of company in the house as it is, eh?" he rejoined. It was the first reference he had ever made to his permanent guests.

"It's what I was thinking, sir."

"You're not for it, then, Mrs. Forbes?"

"So far as taking care of the child goes, I should do my duty. I don't think Mrs. Evringham or her daughter would wish to be bothered; but I know very little about children, except that your house is no place for them to be racing in. One young one brings others. You would be annoyed, sir. Some folks can always ask favors." The housekeeper's cheeks were flushed with the strength of her repugnance, and her bias relieved Mr. Evringham's indecision.

"I agree with you," he returned, rising. "Tell 'Zekiel to saddle the Maid. After dinner I will let him take a telegram to the office."

He returned to the house without further words, and Mrs. Forbes called to her son in a voice that had a wrathful quaver.

"What you got your back up about?" inquired Zeke softly, after a careful look to see that his august master had departed.

"Never you mind. Mr. Evringham wants you should saddle his horse and bring her round. I want he should see you can do it lively."

"Ain't she a beaut'!" exclaimed Zeke as he led out the mare. "She'd ought to be shown, she had."

"Shown! Better not expose your ignorance where Mr. Evringham can hear you. That mare's taken two blue ribbons already."

"Showed they knew their business," returned Zeke imperturbably. "I s'pose the old gent don't care any more for her than he does for his life."

"I guess he loves her the best of anything in this world."

"Love! The governor love anything or anybody! That's good," remarked the young fellow, while Essex Maid watched his movements about her with gentle, curious eyes.

"I do believe she misses Fanshaw and notices the difference," remarked Mrs. Forbes.

"Glad to, too. Ain't you, my beauty? She's going to be stuck on me before we get through. She don't want any Britishers fooling around her."

"You've certainly made her look fine, Zeke. I know Mr. Evringham will be pleased. She just shines from her pretty little ears to her hoofs. Take her around and then come back. I want to talk to you."

"If I don't come back," returned the boy, "you'll know the governor's looked at me a little too hard and I've been struck so."

"Don't be any foolisher than you can help," returned Mrs. Forbes, "and hurry."

On 'Zekiel's return to the barn he saw that his mother's face was portentous. "Lawrence was at least handsome like his father," she began without preamble, looking over Zeke's shoulder, "but Harry was as homely as he was no account. I should think that man had enough of his sons' belongings hanging on him already. What do you think, 'Zekiel Forbes? Mr. Evringham's youngest son Harry has turned up again!"

"I should think it was the old Harry by your tone," rejoined Zeke equably.

"He and his wife, poor as church mice, are getting their expenses paid to Europe on business, and they have the nerve—yes, the cheek—to ask Mr. Evringham to let them leave their young one, a girl eight years old, with him while they're gone."

"I hope it's a real courageous youngster," remarked Zeke.

"A child! A wild Western dressmaker's young one in Mr. Evringham's elegant house!"

"Is the old Harry a dressmaker?" asked Zeke mildly.

"No, his wife is. His Julia! They've named this girl for her, and I suppose they called her Jule, and then twisted it around to Jewel. Jewel!"

"When is she coming?" asked Zeke, seeing that he was expected to say something.

"Coming? She isn't coming," cried his mother irefully. "Not while Mr. Evringham has his wits. They haven't a particle of right to ask him. Harry has worried him to distraction already. The child would be sure to torment him."

"He'd devour her the second day, then," returned Zeke calmly. "It would be soon over."

CHAPTER III

MOTHER AND DAUGHTER

Dr. Ballard had gone, and his hostesses were awaiting the summons to dinner. Mrs. Evringham regarded her daughter critically as the girl sat at the piano, idly running her fingers over the keys.

The listlessness expressed in the fresh face and rounded figure brought a look of disapproval into the mother's eyes.

"You must practice that nocturne," she said. "You played it badly just now, and there is no excuse for it, Eloise."

"If you will let me give lessons I will," responded the girl promptly, without turning her graceful, drooping head.

The unexpected reply was startling.

"What are you talking about?" asked Mrs. Evringham.

"Oh, I'm so tired of it all," replied the girl wearily.

A frown contracted her mother's forehead. "Tired of what? Turn around here!" She rose and put her hands on the pretty shoulders and turned her child until the clear gray eyes met hers. "Now then, tired of what?"

Eloise smiled slightly, and sighed. "Of playing nocturnes to Dr. Ballard."

"And he is quite as tired of hearing you, I dare say," was the retort. "It seems to me you always stumble when you play to the doctor, and he adores Chopin."

Eloise continued to meet her mother's annoyed gaze, her hands fallen in her lap, all the lines of her nut-brown hair, her exquisite face, and pliable, graceful figure so many silent arguments, as they always were, against any one's harboring annoyance toward her.

"You say he does, mother, and you have assured him of it so often that the poor man doesn't dare to say otherwise; but really, if you'd let him have the latest Weber and Field hit, I think he would be so grateful."

"Learn it then!" returned Mrs. Evringham.

Eloise laughed lazily. "Intrepid little mother!" Then she added, in a different tone, "Don't you think there is any danger of our being too obliging? I'm not the only girl in town whose mother wishes her to oblige Dr. Ballard. May we not overreach ourselves?"

"Eloise!" Mrs. Evringham's half-affectionate, half-remonstrating grasp fell from her child's shoulders. "That remark is in very bad taste."

The girl shook her head slowly. "I never can understand why it is any satisfaction to you to pretend. You find comfort in pretending that Mr. Evringham likes to have us here, likes us to use his carriages, to receive his friends, and all the rest of it. We've been here seven weeks and three days, and that little game of pretending is satisfying you still. You are like the ostrich with its head in the sand."

Mrs. Evringham drew her lithe figure up. "Well, Eloise, I hope there are limits to this. To call your own mother an—an ostrich!"

"Don't speak so loud," returned the girl, rising and patting her mother's hand. "Grandfather has returned from his ride. I just heard him come in. It is too near dinner time for a scene. There is no need of our pretending to each other, is there? You have always put me off and put me off, but surely you mean to bring this to an end pretty soon?"

"You could bring it to an end at once if you would!" returned Mrs. Evringham, her voice lowered. "Dr. Ballard has nothing to wait for. I know all about his circumstances. There never was such a providence as father's having a friend like him ready to our hand—so suitable, so attractive, so rich!"

"Yes," responded the girl low and equably, "it is just five weeks and two days that you have been throwing me at that man's head."

"I have done nothing of the kind, Eloise Evringham."

"Yes you have," returned the girl without excitement, "and grandfather sneering at us all the time under his mustache. He knows that there are other girls and other mothers interested in Dr. Ballard more desirable than we are. Oh! how easy it is to be more desirable than we are!"

"There isn't one girl in five hundred so pretty as you," returned Mrs. Evringham stoutly.

"I wish my prettiness could persuade you into my way of thinking."

"What do you mean?" The glance of the older woman was keen and suspicious.

"We would take a cheap little apartment to-morrow," said the girl wistfully.

Mrs. Evringham gave an ejaculation of impatience. "And do all our own work and live like pigs!" she returned petulantly.

Eloise shrugged her shoulders. "I may flatter myself, but I fancy I should keep it rather clean."

"You wouldn't mind your hands then." Mrs. Evringham regarded the hands worthy to be imitated by a sculptor's art, and the girl raised them and inspected the rose-tints of their tips. "I've read something about rubber gloves," she returned vaguely.

"You'd better read something else then. How do you suppose you would get on without a carriage?" asked her mother with exasperation. "You have never had so much as a taste of privation in any form. Your suggestion is the acme of foolishness."

"I think I could do something if you would let me," rejoined the girl as calmly as before. "I think I could teach music pretty well, and keep house charmingly. If I had any false pride when we came out here, the past six weeks have purified me of it. Will you let me try, mother? I'm asking it very seriously."

"Certainly not!" hotly. "There are armies of music teachers now, and you would not have a chance."

"I think I could dress hair well," remarked Eloise, glancing at the reflection in a mirror of her own graceful coiffure.

"I dare say!" responded Mrs. Evringham with sarcastic heat, "or I'm sure you could get a position as a waitress. The servant problem is growing worse every year."

"I'd like to be your waitress, mother." For the first time the girl lost her perfect poise, and the color fluctuated in her cheek. She clasped her hands. "It would be heaven compared with the feeling, the sickening, appalling suspicion, that we are becoming akin to the adventuresses we read of, the pretty, luxurious women who live by their wits."

"Silence!" commanded Mrs. Evringham, her eyes flashing and her effective black-clothed figure drawn up.

Eloise sighed again. "I didn't expect to accomplish anything by this talk," she said, relapsing into listlessness.

"What did you expect then? Merely to be disagreeable? I hope you may be as successful in worthier undertakings. Now listen. Some of the plans you have suggested at various times might be sensible if you were a plain girl. Your beauty is as tangible an asset as money would be; but beauty requires money. You must have it. Your poor father might have left it to you, but he didn't; so you will marry it—not unsuitably," meeting an ominous look in her child's eyes, "not without love or under any circumstances to make a martyr of you, but according to common sense; and as a certain young man is evidently more and more certain of himself every time he comes"—she paused.

"You think there is no need for him to grow more certain of me?" asked Eloise.

"You might have saved us the disagreeables of this interview. And one thing more," impressively, "you evidently are not taking into consideration, perhaps you never knew, that it was your grandfather's confidence in a certain course which induced your poor father to take that last fatal flyer. Your grandfather feels—I'm sure he feels—that much reparation is due us. The present conditions are easier for him than a separate suitable home would be, therefore"—Mrs. Evringham waved her hand. "It is strange," she added, "that so young a girl should not repose more trust in her mother's judgment. And now that we are on the subject, I wish you would make more effort with your grandfather. Don't be so silent at table and leave all the talking to me. A man of his age likes to have merry young people about. Chat, create a cheerful atmosphere. He likes to look at you, of course, but you have been so quiet and lackadaisical of late, it is enough to hurt his feelings as host."

"He has never shown any symptoms of anxiety," remarked Eloise.

"Well, he is a very self-contained man."

"He is indeed, poor grandfather; I don't know how you will manage, mother, when you have to play the game of 'pretend' all alone. He is growing tired of it, I can see. His courtesy is wearing very thin. I'm sorry to make it harder for you by taking away what must have been a large prop and support, but I heard papa say to himself more than once in those last sad days, 'If I had only taken my father's advice.'"

"Eloise," very earnestly, "you misunderstood, you certainly misunderstood."

The girl shook her head wearily. "No, alas! I neither misunderstand nor forget, when it would be most convenient to do so."

Mrs. Evringham's fair brow contracted as she regarded her daughter with exasperation. "And you are only nineteen! One would think it was you instead of me to whom the next birthday would bring that detested forty."

The girl looked at her mother, whose youthful face and figure betrayed the source of her own heritage of physical charm.

"I long ago gave up the hope of ever again being as young as you are," she returned sadly. "Oh!" with a rare and piteous burst of feeling, "if dear papa could have stayed with us, and we could have had a right somewhere!"

Mrs. Evringham threw her arms about the young creature, welcoming the softened mood. "You know I took you right to my own people, Eloise," she said gently. "We stayed as long as I thought was right; they couldn't afford to keep us." A sound at the door caused her to turn. The erect form of her father-in-law had just entered the room.

"Ah, good evening, father," she said in tones whose sadness was not altogether feigned, even though she secretly rejoiced that Eloise should for once show such opportune emotion. "Pardon this little girl. She was just feeling overwhelmed with a pang of homesickness for her father."

"Indeed!" returned Mr. Evringham. "Will you walk out? Mrs. Forbes tells me that dinner is served."

Eloise, hastily drawing her handkerchief across her eyes, passed the unbending figure, her cheeks stinging. His hard voice was in her ears.

That she was not his son's child hurt her now as often before in the past two months, but that he should have discovered her weeping at a moment when he might have been expected to enter was a keen hurt to her pride, and her heart swelled with a suspicion of his unspoken thoughts. She had never been effusive, she had never posed. He had no right to suspect her.

With her small head carried high and her cheeks glowing, she passed him, following her mother, who floated on before with much satisfaction. These opportune tears shed by her nonconforming child should make their stay good for another two months at least.

"You must have had a beautiful ride, father," said Mrs. Evringham as they seated themselves at table. She spoke in the tone, at once assured and ingratiating, which she always adopted toward him. "I noticed you took an earlier start than usual."

The speaker had never had the insight to discover that her father-in-law was ungrateful for proofs that any of his long-fixed, solitary habits were now observed by feminine eyes.

"I did take a rather longer ride than usual," he returned. "Mrs. Forbes, I wish you would speak to the cook about the soup. It has been served cool for the last two days."

Mrs. Forbes flushed as she stood near his chair in her trim black gown and white apron.

"Yes, sir," she replied, the flush and quiet words giving little indication of the tumult aroused within her by her employer's criticism. To fail to please Mr. Evringham at his meals was the deepest mortification life held for her.

"I'm sure it tastes very good," said Mrs. Evringham amiably, "although I like a little more salt than your cook uses."

"You can reach it I hope," remarked the host, casting a glance at the dainty solitaire salt and pepper beside his daughter's plate.

"But don't you like it cooked in?" she asked sweetly.

"Not when I want to get it out," he answered shortly.

"How can mother, how can mother!" thought Eloise helplessly.

"There is decided spring in the air to-day," said Mrs. Evringham. "I remember of old how charmingly spring comes in the park."

"You have a good memory," returned Mr. Evringham dryly.

"Why do you say that?" asked the pretty widow, lifting large, innocent eyes.

"It is some years since you accompanied Lawrence in his calls upon me, I believe."

"Poor father!" thought Mrs. Evringham, "how unpleasantly blunt he has grown, living here alone!"

"I scarcely realize it," she returned suavely. "My recollection of the park is always so clear. It is surprising, isn't it, how relatives can live as near together as we in New York and you out here and see one another so seldom! Life in New York," sighing, "was such a rush for us. Here amid the rustle of the trees it seems to be scarcely the same world. Lawrence often said his only lucid intervals were during the rides he took with Eloise in Central Park. Do you always ride alone, father?"

"Always," was the prompt rejoinder, while Eloise cast a glance full of appeal at her mother.

The latter continued archly, "If you could see Eloise on a horse you would not blame me for trying to screw up my courage, as I have been doing for days past, to ask you if she might take a canter on Essex Maid in the morning, sometimes, while you are away. Fanshaw assured me that she would be perfectly safe."

Mr. Evringham's cold eyes stared, and then the enormity of the proposition appeared to move him humorously.

"Which maid did Fanshaw say would be safe?" he inquired, while Eloise glowed with mortification.

"Well, if you think Eloise can't ride, try her some time!" exclaimed the widow gayly. It had been a matter of surprise and afterward of resentment that Mr. Evringham could remain deaf to her hints so long, and she had determined to become frank. "Or else ask Dr. Ballard," she went on; "he has very kindly provided Eloise with a horse several times, but the child likes a solitary ride, sometimes, as well as you do."

The steely look returned to the host's eyes. "No one rides the Maid but myself," he returned coldly.

"I beg you to believe, grandfather, that I don't wish to ride her," said Eloise, her customary languor of manner gone and her voice hard. "Mother is more ambitious for me than I am for myself. I should be very much obliged if she would allow me to ask favors when I want them."

Mrs. Forbes's lips were set in a tight line as she filled Mrs. Evringham's glass.

That lady's heart was beating a little fast from vexation, and also from the knowledge that a time of reckoning with her child was coming.

"Oh, very well," she said airily. "No wonder you are careful of that beautiful creature. I caught Eloise with her arms around the mare's neck the other day, and I couldn't help wishing for a kodak. You feed her with sugar, don't you Eloise?"

"I hope not, I'm sure!" exclaimed Mr. Evringham sternly.

"I'll not do it again, grandfather," said the girl, her very ears burning.

Mrs. Evringham sighed and gave one Parthian shot. "The poor child does love horses so," she murmured softly.

The host scowled and fidgeted in his chair with a brusque gesture to Mrs. Forbes to remove the course.

"Harry has turned up again," he remarked, to change the subject.

"Really?" returned his daughter-in-law languidly. "For how long I wonder?"

"He thinks it is permanent."

"He is still in Chicago?"

"Yes, for a day or two. He and his wife sail for Europe immediately."

"Indeed!" with a greater show of interest. Then, curiously, "Are you sending them, father?"

"Scarcely! They are going on business."

"Oh," relapsing into indifference. "They have a child, I believe."

"Yes, a girl. I should think perhaps you might have remembered it."

"I hardly see why, if Harry didn't—a fact he plainly showed by deserting the poor creature." The insolence of the speaker's tone was scarcely veiled. Her extreme disapproval of her father-in-law sometimes welled to the surface of her suave manner.

Mr. Evringham's thoughts had fled to Chicago. "Harry proposed leaving the girl here while they are gone," he said.

Mrs. Evringham straightened in her chair and her attention concentrated. "With you? What assurance! How like Harry!" she exclaimed.

The words were precisely those which her host had been saying to himself; but proceeding from her lips they had a strange effect upon him.

"You find it so?" he asked. The clearer the proposition became to Mrs. Evringham's consciousness the more she resented it. To have the child in the house not only would menace her ease and comfort, but meant a possibility that the grandfather might take an interest in Harry's daughter which would disturb Eloise's chances.

"Of course it does. I call it simply presumptuous," she declared with emphasis.

"After all, Harry has some rights," rejoined Mr. Evringham slowly.

"His wife is a dressmaker," went on the other. "I had it directly from a Chicago friend. Harry has scarcely been with the child since she was born. And to saddle a little stranger like that on you! Now Eloise andherfather were inseparable."

There was an ominous glitter in Mr. Evringham's eyes. "Eloise's father!" he returned slowly. "I did not know that she remembered him."

The hurt of his tone and words sank deep into the heart of the girl, but she looked up courageously.

"Your son was my father in every best sense," she said. "We were inseparable. You must have known it."

"You appeared to be separable when your father made his visits to Bel-Air Park," was the rejoinder. "Pardon me if I knew very little of what took place in his household. A telegraph blank, please, Mrs. Forbes, and tell Zeke to be ready to go to the office."

There was a vital tone in the usually dry voice. Mrs. Evringham looked apprehensively at her daughter; but Eloise gave her no answering glance; her eyes were downcast and her pretense of eating continued, while her pulses beat.

CHAPTER IV

FATHER AND SON

When later they were alone, the girl looked at her mother, her eyes luminous.

"You see," she began rather breathlessly, "even you must see, he is beginning to drive us away."

"I do hope, Eloise, you are not going to indulge in any heroics over this affair," returned Mrs. Evringham, who had braced herself to meet an attack. "Does the unpleasant creature suppose we would stay with him if we were not obliged to?"