“Across the hills and far away,
     Beyond their utmost purple rim,
     And deep into the dying day
     The happy princess followed him,

“and all that sort of business, I suppose.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Jewel doubtfully.

“I should hope not.  Well, what else have you done?  Been treating any rheumatism?  I haven’t had it since the sun shone.”

“You never asked me to,” returned the child.

Mr. Evringham smiled.  “The sunshine is a pretty good treatment,” he observed.

“Sometimes your belief comes into my thought,” said Jewel, “and of course I always turn on it and think the truth.”

“Much obliged, I’m sure.  I’d like to turn on it myself at times.”

“You can study with cousin Eloise and me, if you’d like to,” said Jewel eagerly.

“Oh, thank you, thank you,” rejoined the broker hastily.  “Don’t disturb yourself.  There must be some sinners, you know, or the saints would have to go out of business—­nobody to practice on.  Well, have you been to the ravine?”

“Oh yes!  Anna Belle and I, and we had more fun!  We made a garden.”

“Morning or afternoon?”

“Morning.”

“Well I wish to know,” said Mr. Evringham in a suddenly serious and impressive tone, “I wish to know if you reached home in time for lunch.”

Jewel felt somewhat startled under the daze of his piercing eyes, but her conscience was clear.  “Yes, I was here in plenty of time.  I wanted to surely not be late, so I was here too soon.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” returned Mr. Evringham gravely.  “I don’t wish you to be unpunctual, but I object equally to your returning unnecessarily early when you wish to stay.”

“But I couldn’t help it, grandpa,” Jewel began earnestly, when he interrupted her.

“So I’ve brought you this,” he added, and took from his pocket an oblong package, sealed at each end.

The child laid her doll in the broker’s lap,—­he had become hardened to this indignity,—­and her fingers broke the seals and slipped the paper from a morocco case.

“Push the spring in the end,” said Mr. Evringham.

She obeyed.  The lid flew up and disclosed a small silver chatelaine watch.  The pin was a cherub’s head, its wings enameled in white, as were the back and edges of the little timepiece whose hands were busily pointing to blue figures.

Jewel gasped.  “For me?”

Her grandfather smoothed his mustache.  He had presented gifts to ladies before, but never with such effect.

“Grandpa, grandpa!” she exclaimed, touching the little watch in wondering delight.  “See what Divine Love has sent me!”

Mr. Evringham raised his eyebrows and smiled, but he was soon assured that Love’s messenger was not forgotten.  He was instantly enveloped in a rapturous hug, and heroically endured the bitter of the watchcase pressing into his jugular for the sweet of the rose-leaf kisses that were assaulting his cheek like the quick reports of a tiny Gatling gun.