“Oh, no, no, Jewel; no, no!”
“Yes, please, grandpa,” earnestly, “do let’s have one nice nose in the picture!” She lifted eyes veiled again with a threatening mist. “And you’ll put your arm around me—and then I’ll look at it”—her lip twitched.
“Yes, oh, yes, I—I think so,” hastily. “We’ll see, and then, after that—how much Nesselrode pudding do you think you can eat? I tell you, Jewel, we’re going to have the time of our lives!” Mr. Evringham struck his hands together with such lively anticipation that the child’s spirits rose.
“Yes,” she responded, “and then after dinner, what?” She gazed at him.
The broker tapped his forehead as if knocking at the door of memory.
“Father and mother!” she cried out, laughing and beginning to hop discreetly. “You forgot, grandpa, you forgot. Your own little boy coming home and you forgot!”
“Well, that’s a fact, Jewel; that I suppose I had better remember. He is my own boy—and I don’t know but I owe him something after all.”
Again Jewel and her grandfather stood on the wharf where the great boats, ploughing their way through the mighty seas, come finally, each into its own place, as meekly as the horse seeks his stable.
The last time they stood here they were strangers watching the departure of those whom now they waited, hand in hand, to greet.
“Jewel, you made me eat too much dinner,” remarked Mr. Evringham. “I feel as if my jacket was buttoned, in spite of the long drive we’ve taken since. I went to my tailor this morning, and what do you think he told me?”
“What? That you needed some new clothes?”
“Oh, he always tells me that. He told me that I was growing fat! There, young lady, what do you think of that?”
“I think you are, too, grandpa,” returned the child, viewing him critically.
“Well, you take it coolly. Supposing I should lose my waist, and all your fault!”
Jewel drew in her chin and smiled at him.
“Supposing I go waddling about! Eh?”
She laughed. “But how would it be my fault?” she asked.
“Didn’t you ever hear the saying ‘laugh and grow fat’? How many times have you made me laugh since we left the office?”
Jewel began to tug on his hand as she jumped up and down. “Oh, grandpa, do you think our pictures will be good?”
“I think yours will.”
“Not yours?” the hopping ceased.
“Oh, yes, excellent, probably. I haven’t had one taken in so many years, how can I tell? but here’s one day that they can’t get away from us, Jewel. This eighth of June has been a good day, hasn’t it—and mind, you’re not to tell about the pictures until we see how they come out.”
“Yes, haven’t we had fun? The be-eautiful hotel, and the drive in the park, and the ride in the boats and”—