Mr. Evringham lifted her into his arms with a quick movement.  “That’s a far day, thank God,” he murmured, his mustache against her hair; then lowering her until he could look into her face:  “How have you arranged us, Jewel?  Who drives and who rides?”

“Perhaps father would like to drive mother in the phaeton,” said the child, again on her feet.

Harry smiled.  “Your last plan, I thought, was that I should ride the mare.”

“Yes,” returned Jewel, with some embarrassment.  “You won’t look so nice as grandpa does on Essex Maid,” she added, very gently, “but if it would be a pleasure to you, father”—­

Her companions laughed so heartily that the child bored the toe of one shoe into the piazza, and well they knew the sign.

“Here,” said her father hastily, “which of these delicious candies do you want, Jewel?  Oh, how good they look!  I tell you you’ll have to be quick if you want any.  I have only till to-morrow to eat them.”

“Really to-morrow, father!” returned the child, pausing aghast.  “To-morrow!”

“Yes, indeed.”

“To Chicago, do you mean?”

“To Chicago.”  He nodded emphatically.

Jewel turned appealing eyes on her mother.  “Can’t we help it?” she asked in a voice that broke.

“I think not, dearie.  Business must come before pleasure, you know.”

Her three companions looking at the child saw her swallow with an effort.  She dropped the chocolate she had taken back into the box.

A heroic smile came to her trembling lips as she lifted her eyes to the impassive face of the tall, handsome man beside her.  “It’s to-morrow, grandpa,” she said softly, with a look that begged him to remember.

He stooped until his gaze was on a level with hers.  She did not touch him.  All her forces were bent on self-control.

“I have been asking your mother,” said Mr. Evringham, “to stay here a while and take a vacation.  Hasn’t she told you?”

Jewel shook her head mutely.

“I think she will do it if you add your persuasion,” continued the broker quietly.  “She ought to have rest,—­and of course you would stay too, to take care of her.”

A flash like sunlight illumined the child’s tears.  Mr. Evringham expected to feel her arms thrown around his neck.  Instead, she turned suddenly, and running to her father, jumped into his lap.

“Father, father,” she said, “don’t you want us to go with you?”

Harry cleared his throat.  The little scene had moistened his eyes as well.  “Am I of any consequence?” he asked, with an effort at jocoseness.

Jewel clasped him close.  “Oh, father,” earnestly, “you know you are; and the only reason I said you wouldn’t look so nice on Essex Maid is that grandpa has beautiful riding clothes, and when he rides off he looks like a king in a procession.  You couldn’t look like a king in a procession in the clothes you wear to the store, could you, father?”