“Divine Love has been so kind to us, dearie,” she said softly, as she pressed the child closer to her.  “He has brought father and mother back across the ocean and has given you such loving friends while we were gone.”

In a future day Mrs. Evringham was to learn something of the inner history of the progress of this little pilgrim during her first days at Bel-Air; but the shadows had so entirely faded from Jewel’s consciousness that she could not have told it herself—­not even such portions of it as she had once realized.

“Yes, indeed, I love Bel-Air and all the people.  Even aunt Madge kissed me when she went away and said ‘Good-by, you queer little thing!’”

“What did she mean?” asked Mrs. Evringham.

“I don’t know.  I didn’t tell grandpa, because I thought he might not like people calling me queer, but I asked Zeke.”

“He’s Mr. Evringham’s coachman, isn’t he?”

“Yes, and he’s the nicest man, but he only told me that aunt Madge had wheels.  I asked him what kind of wheels, and he said he guessed they were rubber-tired, because she was always rubbering and she made people tired.  You know Zeke is such a joker, so I haven’t found out yet what aunt Madge meant, and it isn’t any matter because”—­Jewel reached up and hugged her mother, “you’ve come home.”

Here the two men approached.  “No more time for spooning,” said Harry cheerfully.  “We’re going now, little girls.”

After all, there was nothing for Jewel to carry.  Her father and grandfather had the dress-suit case and bags.

Mrs. Evringham looked inquiringly at her husband, but he was gayly talking with Jewel as the four walked out to the street.

Mr. Evringham led the way to a carriage that was standing there.  “This is ours,” he said, opening the door.

Harry put the bags up beside the driver while his wife entered the vehicle, still in doubt as to their destination.  Jewel jumped in beside her.

“You’d better move over, dear,” said her mother quietly.  “Let Mr. Evringham ride forward.”

She was not surprised that Jewel was ignorant of carriage etiquette.  It was seldom that either of them had seen the inside of one.

The broker heard the suggestion. “Place aux dames,” he said, briefly, and moved the child back with one hand.  Then he entered, Harry jumped in beside him, slammed the door, and they rolled away.

“If Anna Belle was here the whole family would be together,” said Jewel joyously.  “I don’t care which one I sit by.  I love everybody in this carriage!”

“You do, eh, rascal?” returned her father, putting his hand over in her silken lap and giving her a little shake.  “Where is the great and good Anna Belle?”

“Waiting for us.  Just think of it, all this time!  Grandpa, are we going home with you?”

“What do you mean?” inquired the broker, and the tone of the curt question chilled the spine of his daughter-in-law.  “Were you thinking of spending the night in the ferry-house, perhaps?”