To-day was the third during which Eloise had helped her cousin with the morning lesson and brushed and braided her hair.  Jewel had had many minds about whether to tell Eloise of her escaped secret.  An intuition bade her refrain, but the sense of dishonesty was more than the child could bear; so that morning, during the hair braiding, she had confessed.  She began thus:—­

“I wrote to my father and mother last night how good you were to me.”

“Did you tell them how good you were to me?” asked the girl, so kindly that the child’s heart leaped within her and she more than ever wished that she had nothing to confess.

“I wish I could be, cousin Eloise; I meant to be, but error crept in.”  The girl was learning something of the new phraseology, and she smiled at Jewel in the glass and was surprised to find what troubled eyes met hers.  “I went to sleep that night waiting for grandpa to be through with his book, and when I waked up he had read my letter.”

Eloise’s smile faded.  “Tell me again what you said in it,” she returned.

Jewel’s lips quivered.  “I said how kind you were, and washed my hair, and asked me not to tell grandpa—­”

“You put that in?” Eloise interrupted eagerly.

The child took courage from her changed tone.  “Yes; I said you didn’t want him to know you were kind to me.”

The girl smiled slightly and went on with her brushing.

“He wished he hadn’t read it when he saw how sorry I was.  He asked my pardon and said he had done bad form.  I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s the worst thing that can happen to some people,” returned Eloise.  “Good form is said to be the New York conscience.”

“Oh,” responded Jewel, not understanding, but too relieved and grateful that her cousin was not unforgiving to press the matter.

Eloise fell into thought.  Mr. Evringham had certainly been more genial at table, conversation had been more general and sustained last evening than ever before the advent of Jewel, and he had not sneered, either.  Eloise searched her memory for some word or look that might have given hurt to her self-esteem, but she could find none.

On this evening Mr. Evringham was in unusual spirits at dinner time.  He told of the pleasure of Essex Maid at finding herself free of the stable again, and of the gallop he had taken among the hills.

The meat course had just been removed when Sarah came in with a troubled face, saying that Zeke wanted to see Mr. Evringham.  Something was the matter with Essex Maid.  She seemed “very bad.”

The master’s face changed, and he moved back from the table.  The countenances of the others showed consternation.  Mrs. Forbes turned pale.  Had Zeke done anything, or left something undone?  She dropped her tray and hastened after Mr. Evringham.  Eloise noticed that Jewel’s eyes were closed.  In a minute the child pushed back from the table, and without a word to the others she hurried to the scene of trouble.  She met Mrs. Forbes rushing to the kitchen for hot water.