“Oh, father would as soon forget his breakfast as roses for a woman he was seeing off,” returned Harry without enthusiasm, while he waved his hat energetically.

The steamer pulled out.  The faces in the crowd mingled and changed places.

“I’ve lost them, I’ve lost them!” cried Julia.  “Oh, where are they, Harry.”

“Over there near the corner.  I can see father.  It’s all right, dear,” choking a little.  “Jewel was skipping and laughing a minute ago.  It will only be a few weeks, but confound it,” violently, “next time we’ll take her!”

Julia buried her face in the roses, on which twinkled a sudden dew, and tried to gather promise from their sweet breath.

Jewel strained her eyes to follow the now indistinguishable forms on the lofty deck, and her grandfather looked down at the small figure in the sailor suit, the short thick pigtails of flaxen hair tied with large bows of ribbon, and the doll clasped in one arm.  At last the child turned her head and looked up, and their eyes met for the first time.

“Jove, she does look like Harry!” muttered Mr. Evringham, and even as he spoke the plain little face was illumined with the smile he knew, that surpassingly sweet smile which promised so much and performed nothing.

The child studied him with open, innocent curiosity.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she said at last, in a voice light and winning, a voice as sweet as the smile.

“I don’t wonder.  I don’t quite know myself this morning,” he replied brusquely.

“We have a picture of you, but it’s a long-ago one, and I thought by this time you would be old, and—­and bent over, you know, the way grandpas are.”

Even in that place of drays and at eight o’clock A.M. these words fell not disagreeably upon irritated ears.

“I think myself Nature did not intend me to be a grandpa,” he replied.

“Oh, yes, you’re just the right kind,” returned the child hastily and confidently.  “Strong and—­and handsome.”

Mr. Evringham looked at her in amazement.  “The little rascal!” he thought.  “Has she been coached?”

“I suppose we may get away from here now,” he said aloud.  “There’s nothing more to wait for.”

“Didn’t the roses make mother happy?” asked the little girl, trotting along beside his long strides.  “I think it was wonderful for you to bring them so early in the morning.”

Mr. Evringham summoned a cab.

“Oh, are we gong in a carriage?” cried Jewel, highly pleased.  “But I mustn’t forget, grandpa, there’s something father told me I must give you the first thing.  Will you take Anna Belle a minute, please?” and Mr. Evringham found himself holding the doll fiercely by one leg while small hands worked at the catch of a very new little leather side-bag.

At last Jewel produced a brass square.

“Oh, your trunk check.”  Mr. Evringham exchanged the doll for it with alacrity.  “Get in.”  He held open the cab door.