“See if you can wind it,” he said at last.
Jewel lifted her treasure tenderly from its velvet bed, and he showed her how to twist its stem, and then pinned it securely on the breast of her light sailor suit, where she looked down upon it in rapt admiration.
“Now then, Jewel, you have no excuse!” he said severely.
She raised her happy eyes, while her hand pressed the satin surface of her watch. “Grandpa, grandpa!” she said, sighing ecstatically, “you’re such a joker!”
THE RAVINE GARDEN
Mrs. Evringham tried heroically to look impassive when her daughter returned from the ride. There was barely time then to dress for dinner, and no opportunity for confidences before the meal, nor afterward until bedtime; but the look of peace and sweetness in Eloise’s face could have but one significance to the mother, who believed that peace lay only in the direction upon which she had set her heart.
Mr. Evringham took coffee with them after dinner in the drawing-room, while Jewel caressed her watch, never tiring of looking at its clear face and the little second hand which traveled so steadily its tiny circuit.
Mrs. Evringham looked often toward the door, expectant of the doctor’s entrance. The evening wore on and he did not come. Still Eloise’s face wore the placid, restful expression. A gentle ease with her grandfather replaced her old manner.
Her mother determined to try an experiment.
“You could never guess who called to-day, Eloise,” she said suddenly.
Her daughter looked up from her coffee. “No. Who was it?”
“Really!” The girl’s tone indicated great surprise, and that only. “I wish I might have seen him.”
The addition was made so calmly, almost perfunctorily,
Evringham smiled with exultation.
She turned to her father-in-law. “Who would believe that Mr. Bonnell was Eloise’s brightest flame a year ago? ‘How soon are we forgot!’” she said lightly.
When Jewel had kissed them all good-night and gone upstairs, and Mr. Evringham had withdrawn to his library, Mrs. Evringham took her child’s hand and looked fondly into her eyes.
“Well?” she asked.
“Well,” returned Eloise, “do tell me everything Nat said.”
“After you’ve told me everything Dr. Ballard said. I supposed you’d fly to tell me, dear.”
The girl looked tenderly back into the eyes that were sharp with inquiry. “Dear little mother,” she returned, “it can’t be.”
“What can’t be?”
“What you wish. Dr. Ballard.”
“Have you—refused him—!” Mrs. Evringham’s face whitened, and unconsciously she stepped back.
“It didn’t have to come to that. Dr. Ballard is so fine—such a wise man in so many ways. I do admire him so much.”