“You didn’t expect to see me, grandpa, did you?” she asked, and as it did not even occur to him to stoop his head to her, she seized his hand and kissed it as they went on down the stairs.

“I was so disappointed because it rained so hard.  I was going to see you ride.”

“Yes.  Beastly weather,” assented Mr. Evringham.

“But the flowers and trees want a drink, don’t they?”

“’M.  I suppose so.”

“And the brook will be prettier than ever.”

“’M.  See that you keep out of it.”

“Yes, I will, grandpa; and I thought the first thing this morning, I’ll wear my rubbers all day.  I was so afraid I might forget I put them right on to make sure.”

They had reached the hall, and Jewel exhibited her feet encased in the roomy storm rubbers.

“Great Scott, child!” ejaculated Mr. Evringham, viewing the shiny overshoes.  “What size are your feet?”

“I don’t know,” returned the little girl, “but I only have to scuff some, and then they’ll stay on.  Mrs. Forbes said I’d grow to them.”

“So you will, I should think, if you’re going to wear them in the house as well as out.”  It was against Mr. Evringham’s principles to smile before breakfast, at all events at any one except Essex Maid; but the large, shiny overshoes that looked like overgrown beetles, and Jewel’s optimistic determination to make him happy, even offset his painful arm.

“The house doesn’t leak anywhere,” he said.  “I think it will be safe for you to take them off until after breakfast.”

Jewel lifted her shoulders and looked up at him with the glance he knew.

“Unless we’re going out to the stable,” she said suggestively.

He hesitated a moment.  “Very well,” he returned.  “Let us go to the stable.”

“But first we must tie the ribbons,” she said with a joyous chuckle.  She would have skipped but for the rubbers.  As it was, she proceeded circumspectly to the library, drawing the broker by the hand.  “I want you to see, grandpa, if you don’t think I made my parting real straight this morning,” she said as she softly closed the door.

“Gently on my arm, Jewel,” he remonstrated, wincing as she returned, flinging her energetic little body against him.  “I have the rheumatism like the devil—­pardon me.”

She looked at him suddenly, wondering and wistful.  “Oh, have you?” she returned sympathetically.  “But it is only like the devil, grandpa,” she added hopefully, “and you know there isn’t any devil.”

“I can’t discuss theology before breakfast,” he returned briefly.

“Dear grandpa, you shan’t have a single pain!” She held her head back and looked at him lovingly.

“Very likely not, when I’ve begun playing the harp.  Now where are those con—­those ribbons?”

Jewel’s eyes and lips grew suddenly serious and doubtful, and he observed the change.

“Yes, your hair ribbons, you know,” he added hastily and with an attempt at geniality.