“Why, September is almost next winter,” said Jewel appealingly.

Mr. Evringham looked his son full in the eyes and liked the direct way they met him.

“The latchstring will be out from now on, Harry I want you to feel that it is your latchstring as much as mine.”

His son did not speak, but the way the two men suddenly clasped hands gave Jewel a very comforted sensation.

“And you don’t feel a bit sorry to be going alone to Chicago?” she pursued, again centring her attention and embrace upon her father.

“I tell you I was never so happy in my life,” he responded, kissing her and setting her on her feet.  “Are you going to allow me to drive to the station in your place this morning?”

“I’d let you do anything, father,” returned Jewel affectionately.  It touched her little heart to see him go alone away from such a happy family circle, but her mother’s good cheer was reassuring.

They had scarcely had a minute alone together since Mrs. Evringham’s arrival, and when the last wave had been sent toward the head leaning out of the brougham window, mother and child went up the broad staircase together, pausing before the tall clock whose chime had grown so familiar to Jewel since that chilling day when Mrs. Forbes warned her not to touch it.

“Everything in this house is so fine, Jewel,” said the mother.  “It must have seemed very strange to you at first.”

“It did.  Anna Belle and I felt more at home out of doors, because you see God owned the woods, and He didn’t care if we broke something, and Mrs. Forbes used to be so afraid; but it’s all much different now,” added the child.

They went on up to the room where stood the small trunk which was all Mrs. Evringham had taken abroad for her personal belongings.

To many children the moment of their mother’s unpacking after a return from a trip is fraught with pleasant and eager anticipation of gifts.  In this case it was different; for Jewel had no previous journey of her mother’s to remember, and her gifts had always been so small, with the shining exception of Anna Belle, that she made no calculations now concerning the steamer trunk, as she watched her mother take out its contents.

Each step Mrs. Evringham took on the rich carpet, each glance she cast at the park through the clear sheets of plate glass in the windows, each smooth-running drawer, each undreamed-of convenience in the closet with its electric light for dark days, impressed her afresh with a sense of wondering pleasure.  The lady of her name who had so recently dwelt among these luxuries had accepted them fretfully, as no more than her due; the long glass which now reflected Julia’s radiant dark eyes lately gave back a countenance impressed with lines of care and discontent.

“Jewel, I feel like a queen here,” said the happy woman softly.  “I like beautiful things very much, but I never had them before in my life.  Come, darling, we must read the lesson.”  She closed the lid of the trunk.