“Not wear them?  Of course she must wear them,” returned Mr. Evringham brusquely.  “Get them to-day, if convenient, Mrs. Forbes.”

The housekeeper looked relieved.

“I hope she’s not making you any trouble, eh?” added Mr. Evringham.

“Not any more than she can help, I suppose,” was the grudging reply.  “She’s a smart child, and being an only one, she’s some notional.  She won’t eat this and that, and doesn’t want to wear rubbers, but she’s handy and neat, and is used to doing for herself; her mother hasn’t had time to fuss with her, of course, and that’s lucky for me.  She seems very well behaved, considering.”

Jewel had made heroic efforts while Mrs. Forbes assisted at her morning toilet, and this was her reward.

“Well, we mustn’t have you imposed upon,” returned Mr. Evringham, feeling guilty of the situation.  “The child must obey you implicitly, implicitly.”

So saying he passed into the house, and after making a change in his toilet, entered the dining-room.  There he was seated, deep in his newspaper and waiting for his coffee, when the door opened, light feet ran to him, and an arm was thrown around his neck.  He looked up to meet a happy smile, and before he could realize who had captured him, Jewel pressed a fervent kiss upon his cheek.

“Oh, grandpa, how nice and cold your cheek feels!  Have you been out doors already?”

Mr. Evringham could feel the said cheek grow hot in surprise at this onslaught.  He held himself stiffly and uncomfortably in the encircling arm.

“Yes, I’ve been out on horseback,” he returned shortly.  “I go every morning.”

Jewel’s eyes sparkled.  “Oh, I’m so glad.  Then I can watch you.  I love to see anybody ride.  When I see a beautiful horse something inside me gets warm.  Father says I like just the same things he does.  I must let you read your paper, grandpa, but may I say one thing more?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t come last evening to kiss you good-night because you had somebody with you in the library, and, the giant—­and Mrs. Forbes wouldn’t let me; but I wanted to.  You know I wanted to, don’t you?  I felt all sorry inside because I couldn’t.  You know you’re the only real relation I have in the castle”—­Here Mrs. Forbes’s entrance with the coffee interrupted the confidence, and Jewel, with a last surreptitious squeeze of Mr. Evringham’s neck, intended to finish her sentence eloquently, left him and went to her chair.

“You’re to sit here this morning,” said Mrs. Forbes, indicating the place opposite her employer.  “Mrs. Evringham and her daughter don’t come down to breakfast.”

Jewel looked up eagerly.  “Not ever?” she asked.

“Never.”

The child shot a radiant glance across at her grandfather which he caught, the thread of his business calculations having been hopelessly broken.  “Oh, grandpa, we’re always going to have breakfast alone together!” she said joyously.  Noting Mrs. Forbes’s set countenance, she added apologetically, “They’re so pretty, cousin Eloise and aunt Madge, I love to look at them, but they aren’t my real relations, and,” her face gladdening again, “to think of having breakfast alone with you, grandpa, makes me feel as if—­as if I had a birthday!”