“I think it will take every cent you have left,” returned Mr. Evringham, gravely, curious to hear what his granddaughter would say in this dilemma.

Her reply came promptly and even eagerly.  “Well, that’s all right, because Divine Love will send me more if I need it.”

“Indeed?  How can you be sure?”

Jewel smiled at him affectionately.  “Do you mean it grandpa?”

“Why yes.  I really want to know.”

“Even after God sent you Essex Maid?” she asked incredulously.

“You think the mare is the best thing in my possession, eh?”

“Ye—­es!  Don’t you?”

“I believe I do.”  As Mr. Evringham spoke, this kinship of taste induced him to turn his face toward the one beside him.  Instantly he found himself kissed full on the lips, and while he was recovering from the shock, Jewel proceeded:—­

“God has given you so many things, grandpa, that’s why it surprised me to have you look so sorry when I first came.”  The child examined his countenance critically.  “I don’t think you look so sorry as you used to.  I know you must have lots of error to meet, and perhaps,” lowering her voice to an extra gentleness, “perhaps you don’t know how to remember every minute that God is a very present help in trouble.  Mother says that even grown-up people are just finding out about it.”

As she paused Mr. Evringham hesitated, somewhat embarrassed under the blue eyes.  “We all have plenty to learn, I dare say,” he returned vaguely.

He had more than once wished that he had taken more notice of Harry’s wife during his opportunity at the hotel.  He had looked upon the interview as a distasteful necessity to be disposed of as cursorily as possible.

His son had married beneath him, some working girl probably, whose ability to support herself had turned out to be a deliverance for her father-in-law when the ne’er-do-well husband shirked his responsibilities; and Mr. Evringham had gone to the hotel that evening intending to make it clear that although he performed a favor for his son, there were no results to follow.

His granddaughter’s fearlessness, courtesy, and affection had forced him to wonder as to the mother who had fostered these qualities.  He remembered the eloquence of his son’s face when Harry expressed the wish that he might know Julia, and a vague admiration and respect were being born in the broker’s heart for the deserted woman who had worked with hand and brain for her child—­his grandchild was the way he put it—­with such results as he saw.

Some perception of what Harry’s sensations must have been during the last six months came to him as he sat there with the little girl’s arm about him.  Harry had come home and discovered his child, his Jewel.  A frown gathered on the broker’s brow as he realized the hours of vain regret his son must have suffered for those lost years of the child’s life.

“Served him right, served him perfectly right!”