She looked questioningly at the housekeeper.  “I think I’ll draw up another chair for Anna Belle,” she said.

Mrs. Forbes had already decided, from small signs of assurance, that this Western child was bold.  “Give her an inch, and she’ll take an ell,” she had said to herself.  “I know her sort.”

“Do you mean the doll?” she returned.  “Put it down anywhere.  You must never bring it to the table.  Mr. Evringham wouldn’t like it.”

In silence Jewel seated the doll in the nearest chair against the wall, and as she slid up into her own, a neat maid appeared with a puffy and appetizing omelet.

Mrs. Forbes filled the child’s glass with water, and the maid set down the omelet and departed.

Jewel’s heart sank while Mrs. Forbes presented the souffle.

“I’m sorry,” she began hesitatingly, “I never—­I can’t”—­then she swallowed hard in her desperate plight.  “Isn’t it pretty?” she said rather breathlessly.

“It’s very good,” returned the housekeeper briefly, misconstruing the child’s hesitation.  “Shall I help you?”

“I—­could I have a drink of milk?  I don’t—­I don’t eat eggs.”

“Don’t eat eggs?” repeated the housekeeper severely.  “I’m sorry you have been allowed to be notional.  Children should eat what is set before them.  Taste of it.”

“I—­I couldn’t, please.”  Jewel’s face was averted.

Mrs. Forbes touched an electric bell.  The maid reappeared.  “Remove the omelet, Sarah, and bring Miss Julia a glass of milk.”

That was the order, but oh, the tone of it!  Jewel’s heart beat a little faster as she took some bread and butter and drank the milk, Mrs. Forbes standing by, a portentous, solemn, black-robed figure, awful in its silence.

When the child set down the glass empty, she started to push back her chair.

“Wait,” said Mrs. Forbes laconically.  She again touched an electric bell.  The maid reappeared, removed the bread and milk and served a dainty dessert of preserved peaches, cream, and cake.

“I’ve really had enough,” said Jewel politely.

“Don’t you eat peaches and cream, or cake either?” asked Mrs. Forbes accusingly.

“Yes’m,” returned the child, and ate them without further ado.

“Your trunk has come,” said Mrs. Forbes when at last Jewel slipped down from the table.  “I will come up and help you unpack it.”

“If only she wouldn’t!” thought the child as she lifted Anna Belle, but the housekeeper preceded her up the stairs, breathing rather heavily.

Sure enough, when they reached the white room, there stood the new trunk that had been packed with so much anticipation.  The bright black letters on the side, J. E., had power even now to send a little glow of pride through its possessor.  She stole a glance at Mrs. Forbes, but, strange as it may appear, the housekeeper gave no evidence of admiration.

“I don’t need to trouble you, Mrs. Forbes.  I can unpack it,” said the child.