“Yes, I want him to be always happy,” said the child.

“Who is your grandfather, my dear?”

“Mr. Evringham.”

“Is it possible?  Then you are—­whose child?”

“My father’s name is Harry.”

“Of course, of course.”  Mr. Reeves nodded, trying to conceal his surprise.  “And is he a Scientist now?”

“Yes, my mother is teaching him to be.”

“Well, I’m sure I’m very glad to hear this.  Your grandfather is not unkindly disposed toward Science?”

“My grandfather couldn’t be unkind to anything!  I thought you knew him.”

Mr. Reeves smoothed his mustache vigorously.  “I thought I did,” he returned.  “You spoke of your cousin.  I knew your aunt and cousin were with Mr. Evringham now.  Well, I’m glad, I’m sure, that you are so pleasantly situated.  You must come to our little hall some Sunday where we have service, you know.  It will be rather different from your beautiful churches in Chicago.”

“But I’d love to come,” replied the child eagerly.  “I didn’t know there was one here.  I’ll get grandpa to bring me.”

“Mr. Evringham!” The speaker could feel the tendency of his jaw to drop.

“Yes, or else cousin Eloise.  She helps me get the lesson every day, and then she takes my book and reads and reads.  She told me this morning she read almost all last night.”

Mr. Reeves nodded slowly once or twice.  “Still they come,” he murmured meditatively.

“Would you—­would you mind writing down where that hall is?” asked the child.

“Certainly I will.”  Mr. Reeves suited the action to the word, taking an envelope from his pocket for the purpose.  “And if I ever see Mr. Evringham there”—­he said slowly, “by the way, please tell your grandfather that we met and had this chat.”

“I don’t know your name,” returned the child.

“Why, of course.  Pardon me.  Reeves.  Mr. Reeves.  Can you remember that?”

The little girl flashed a bright look at him.  “We can’t forget,” she reminded him.

“Of course,” he nodded.  “Exactly.  I’m very likely younger in Science than you are, little one.  How long have you known about it?”

Jewel thought.  “Seven years,” she replied.

Her companion gave a laughing exclamation.  “There, you see.  I’ve known for only one year.  What is your name?”

“Jewel Evringham.”

“Good-bye, Jewel, till we meet again, some Sunday soon, I hope.”

They shook hands, and Mr. Reeves went smiling on his way.

“Seven years,” he reflected.  “There’s the simon pure article.  She can’t be over nine.  I’ll wager Bel-Air Park has had its sensations of late.  Evringham!  The high ball, the billiard ball, and the race track, and now the reputation of being a difficult old martinet.  Never unkind to anything!  Why, she’s a little feminine Siegfried, that precious Jewel.  Ballard and the cousin, eh?  I’ve heard that rumor.”