“You tie your neckties just beautifully, grandpa; and Mrs. Forbes does her duty so hard, and she wants to have my hair cut off, to save trouble.”  Jewel put her hand up to one short pigtail protectingly.

“And you don’t want it cut off, eh?”

“No; and mother wouldn’t either.  So it would be error, and I’m sure I could learn to fix it better than I did to-night, if you would tie the bows.  Just try one right now, grandpa.”

“With the house full of women!” gasped Mr. Evringham.

“But none of them my real relatives,” replied Jewel, and she turned the back of her head to him, putting the ribbons in his hands.

His fingers fumbled at the task for a minute, and his breathing began to be heavy.

“Is it hard, grandpa?” she asked sympathetically.  “You can do it.  You reflect intelligence.”  Then in an instant, “Oh, I’ve thought of something.”  She whisked about, took the ribbons and tied one tightly around the end of each braid, then ducking her forehead into his shirt front, “Now put your arms around my neck and tie the bow just as if it was on yourself.”  Eureka!  The thing was accomplished and Mrs. Forbes outwitted.  The broker was rather pleased with himself, at the billowy appearance of the ribbon which covered such a multitude of sins in the way of bad parting and braiding.  He took his handkerchief and wiped the beads of perspiration from his brow, while Jewel regarded him with admiring affection.

“I knew you could do just anything, grandpa!” she said.  “You see,” looking off at a mental vision of the housekeeper, “we could come in here every morning for a minute before breakfast, and she’d never know, would she?” The child lifted her shoulders and laughed softly with pleasure at the plot.

Mr. Evringham saw his opportunity to take the floor.

“Now Jewel, I would like to have you explain what you meant by saying that you telegraphed to Chicago to-day, when you didn’t leave your bed.”

She looked up at him attentively.  “Ezekiel took it for me,” she replied.

Mr. Evringham unconsciously heaved a sigh of relief at this commonplace information.  His knowledge of the claims of Christian Science was extremely vague, and he had feared being obliged to listen to a declaration of the use of some means of communication which would make Marconi’s discoveries appear like clumsy makeshifts.

“But I think, grandpa, perhaps you’d better not tell Mrs. Forbes.”

“How did you manage to see Zeke?”

“I asked his mother if he might come to see me before he took you to the train.”

Mr. Evringham pulled his mustache in amusement.  “Did he pay for the telegram?”

“Why no, grandpa.  I told you I had plenty of money.”

“And you think that Mrs. Somebody in Chicago cured you?”

“Of course not.  God did.”

“But she asked Him, eh?”

Jewel’s innocent eyes looked directly into the quizzical ones.  “It’s pretty hard for a little girl to teach you about it if you don’t know,” she said doubtfully.