“Is there something that makes you sorry, grandpa?” she asked softly.

His eyes were fixed on a ferry boat, black with its human freight, about to pass them on its way to the city.

“I was wishing I were on that boat.  That’s all.”

The little girl lifted her shoulders.  “I don’t believe there’s room,” she said, looking smilingly for a response from her companion.  “I don’t believe even Anna Belle could squeeze on.  Do you think so?”

Mr. Evringham, holding his hat with one hand, was endeavoring to fetter the lively corners of his newspaper in such shape that he could at least get a glimpse of headlines.

“Oh, I see a statue.  Is that it, grandpa?  Is that it?”

“What?” vaguely.  “Oh yes.  The statue of Liberty.  Yes, that’s it.  As if there was any liberty for anybody!” muttered Mr. Evringham into his mustache.

“It isn’t so very big,” objected Jewel.

“We’re not so very near it.”

“Just think,” gayly, “father and mother are sailing away just the way we are.”

“H’m,” returned Mr. Evringham, trying to read the report of the stock market, and becoming more impatient each instant with the sportive breeze.

“Julia,” he said at last, “I am going into the cabin to read the paper.  Will you go in, or do you wish to stay here?”

“May I stay here?”

“Yes,” doubtfully, “I suppose so, if you won’t climb on the rail, or—­or anything.”

Jewel laughed in gleeful appreciation of the joke.  Her grandfather met her blue eyes unsmilingly and vanished.

“I wish grandpa didn’t look so sorry,” she thought regretfully.  “He is a very important man, grandpa is, and perhaps he has a lot of error to meet and doesn’t know how to meet it.”

Watching the dancing waves and constantly calling Anna Belle’s attention to some point of interest on the water front or a passing craft, she nevertheless pursued a train of thought concerning her important relative, with the result that when the gong sounded for landing, and Mr. Evringham’s impassive countenance reappeared, she met him with concern.

“Doesn’t it make you sorry to read the morning paper, grandpa?”

“Sometimes.  Depends on the record of the Exchange.”  There was somewhat less of the irritation of a newsless man in the morning in the speaker’s tone.

“Mother calls the paper the Daily Saddener,” pursued Jewel, again slipping her hand into her grandfather’s as a matter of course as they moved slowly off the boat.  “I’ve been thinking that perhaps you’re in a hurry to get to business, grandpa.”

The child did not quote his words about the ingoing ferry boat lest he should feel regret at having spoken them.

“Well, there’s no use in my being in a hurry this morning,” he returned.

“I was going to ask, couldn’t you show me how to go to Bel-Air, so you wouldn’t have to take so much time?”