Mr. Evringham blew his nose violently, and crossing the office turned the key in the door.

“I think that would be an excellent plan, Jewel,” he returned, rather thickly, but with an endeavor to speak heartily.  “Of course your confounded—­I mean to say your—­your parents will naturally expect you to follow their plans and”—­he paused.

“And it would be so unloving to let them think that I was sorry after they let me have such a beautiful visit, and if we can just—­manage not to say good-by, everything will be so much easier.”

The broker stood looking at her while the plaintive voice made music for him.  “I’m going to try to manage just that thing if it’s in the books,” he said, after waiting a little, and Jewel, looking up at him with an April smile, saw that his eyes were wet.

“You’re so good, grandpa,” she returned tremulously; “and I won’t even kiss Essex Maid’s neck—­not the last morning.”

He sat down with fallen gaze, and Jewel caught her lip with her teeth as she looked at him.  Then suddenly the leghorn hat was on the floor, daisy side down, while she climbed into his lap and her soft cheek buried itself under Mr. Evringham’s ear.

“How m-many m-miles off is Chicago?” stammered the child, trying to repress her sobs, all happy considerations suddenly lost in the realization of her grandfather’s lonely lot.

“A good many more than it ought to be.  Don’t cry, Jewel.”  The broker’s heart swelled within him as he pressed her to his breast.  Her sorrow filled him with tender elation, and he winked hard.

“There isn’t—­isn’t any sorrow—­in mind, grandpa.  Shouldn’t you—­you think I’d—­remember it?  Divine Love always—­always takes care—­of us—­and just because—­I don’t see how He’s going—­going to this time—­I’m crying!  Oh, it’s so—­so naughty!”

Mr. Evringham swallowed fast.  He never had wondered so much as he did this minute just how obstinate or how docile those inconvenient and superfluous individuals—­Jewel’s parents—­would prove.

He cleared his throat.  “Come, come,” he said, and he kissed the warm pink rose of the child’s cheek.  “Don’t spoil those bright eyes just when you’re going to have your picture taken.  We’re going to have the jolliest time you ever heard of!”

Jewel’s little handkerchief was wet and Mr. Evringham put his own into her hand and they went into the lavatory where she used the wet corner of a towel while he told her about the photographer who had taken Essex Maid’s picture and should take Star’s.

Then the cherished leghorn hat was rescued from its ignominy and replaced carefully on its owner’s head.

“But I never thought you meant to have my picture taken this afternoon,” said Jewel, her lips still somewhat tremulous.

“I didn’t until a minute ago, but I think we can find somebody who won’t mind doing it late in the day.”

“Yours too, then, grandpa.—­Oh, yes,” and at last a smile beamed like the sun out of an April sky, “right on the same card with me!”