“Speaking of boats, there it is now.  They’re coming,” remarked Mr. Evringham.

“Who?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Henry Thayer Evringham,” returned the broker dryly.  “Steady, Jewel, steady now.  It will be quite a while before you see them.”

The late twilight had faded and the June night begun, the wharf was dimly lighted and there was the usual crowd of customs officers, porters, and men and women waiting to see friends.  All moved and changed like figures in a kaleidoscope before Jewel’s unwinking gaze; but the long minutes dragged by until at last her father and mother appeared among the passengers who came in procession down the steep incline from the boat.

Mr. Evringham drew back a step as father, mother, and child clung to each other, kissing and murmuring with soft exclamations.  Harry extricated himself first and shook hands with his father.

“Awfully good of you to get us the courtesy of the port,” he said heartily.

“Don’t mention it,” returned the broker, and Julia released Jewel and turned upon Mr. Evringham her grateful face.

“But so many things are good of you,” she said feelingly, as she held out her hand.  “It will take us a long time to give thanks.”

“Not at all, I assure you,” responded the broker coldly, but his heart was hot within him.  “If they have the presumption to thank me for taking care of Jewel!” he was thinking as he dropped his daughter-in-law’s hand.

“What a human iceberg!” she thought.  “How has Jewel been able to take it so cheerfully?  Ah, the blessed, loving heart of a child!”

Meanwhile Mr. Evringham turned to his son and continued:  “The courtesy of the port does shorten things up a bit, and I have a man from the customs waiting.”

Harry followed him to see about the luggage, and Mrs. Evringham and Jewel sat down on a pile of boxes to wait.  The mother’s arm was around the little girl, and Jewel had one of the gloved hands in both her own.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, suddenly starting up, “Mrs. Forbes thought I’d better wear my sailor suit instead of this, and she told me not to sit down on anything dirty.”  She carefully turned up the skirt of her little frock and seated herself again on a very brief petticoat.

Mrs. Evringham smiled.  “Mrs. Forbes is careful of you, isn’t she?” she asked.  Her heart was in a tumult of happiness and also of curiosity as to her child’s experiences in the last two months.  Jewel’s letters had conveyed that she was content, and joy in her pony had been freely expressed.  The mother’s mental picture of the stiff, cold individual to whose doubtful mercies she had confided her child at such short notice had been softened by the references to him in Jewel’s letters; and it was with a shock of disappointment that she found herself repulsed now by the same unyielding personality, the same cold-eyed, unsmiling, fastidiously dressed figure, whose image had lingered in her memory.  A dozen eager questions rose to her lips, but she repressed them.