"Indeed I hope so, too. There wouldn"t be any pleasant side to it."
Jewel"s thoughtful face brightened. "Except for the little fishes and water-creatures that would rush out to sea. It"s fun for _them_. Mustn"t they be surprised when that happens, grandpa?"
"I should think so! Do you suppose the wind gives them any warning, or any time to pack?"
Jewel laughed. "I don"t know; but just think of rushing out into those great breakers, when you don"t expect it, right from living so quietly in the pond!"
"H"m. A good deal like going straight from Bel-Air Park to Wall Street, I should think."
Jewel grew serious. "I think fish have the most _fun_," she said. "Do you know, grandpa, I"ve decided that if I couldn"t be your little grandchild, I"d rather be a lobster than anything."
The broker threw up his head, laughing. "Some children could combine the two," he replied, "but you can"t."
"What?" asked Jewel.
"Nothing. Why not be a fish, Jewel? They"re much more graceful."
"But they can"t creep around among the coral and peek into oyster sh.e.l.ls at the pearls."
"Imagine a lobster peeking!" Mr. Evringham strained his eyes to their widest and stared at Jewel, who shouted.
"That"s just the way the sand-fleas look," she exclaimed.
"Well," remarked the broker, recovering his ordinary expression, "you may as well remain a little girl, so far as that goes. You can creep around among the coral and peek at pearls at Tiffany"s."
"What"s Tiffany"s?"
"Something you will take more interest in when you"re older." The broker shook his head. "The difference is that the lobster wouldn"t care to wear the coral and pearls. An awful thought comes over me once in a while, Jewel," he added, after a pause.
The child looked up at him seriously. "It can be met," she answered quickly.
He smiled. He understood her peculiar expressions in these days. "Hardly, I think," he answered. "It is this: that you are going to grow up."
Jewel looked off at the blue water. "Well," she replied at last hopefully, "you"re grown up, you know, and perhaps you"ll like me then just as much as I do you."
He squeezed the little hand he held. "We"ll hope so," he said.
"And besides, grandpa," she went on, for she had heard him express the same dread before, "we"ll be together every day, so perhaps you won"t notice it.
Sometimes I"ve tried to see a flower open. I"ve known it was going to do it, and I"ve been just _bound_ I"d see it; and I"ve watched and watched, but I never could see when the leaves spread, no matter how much I tried, and yet it would get to be a rose, somehow. Perhaps some day somebody"ll say to you, "Why, Jewel"s a grown up lady, isn"t she?" and you"ll say, "Is she, really? Why, I hadn"t noticed it.""
"That"s a comforting idea," returned Mr. Evringham briefly, his eyes resting on the upturned face.
"So now, if the pond won"t run away, we"ll have the most _fun_," went on Jewel, relieved. "They _said_ we could take this boat, grandpa, and have a row." She lifted her shoulders and smiled.
"H"m. A row and a swim combined," returned the broker. "I"m surprised they"ve nothing better this year than that ramshackle boat. You"ll have to bail if we go."
"What"s bail?" eagerly.
"Dipping out the water with a tin cup."
"Oh, that"ll be fun. It"ll be an adventure, grandpa, won"t it?"
"I hope not," earnestly, was the reply; but Jewel was already sitting on the gra.s.s pulling off her shoes and stockings. She leaped nimbly into the wet boat, and Mr. Evringham stepped gingerly after her, seeking for dry spots for his canvas shoes.
"I think," said the child joyfully, as they pushed off, "when the winds and waves notice us having so much fun, they"ll let the pond alone, don"t you?"
"If they have any hearts at all," responded Mr. Evringham, bending to the oars.
"Oh, grandpa, you can tell stories like any thing!" exclaimed Jewel admiringly.
"It has been said before," rejoined the broker modestly.
When outdoor gayeties had to be dispensed with one day, on account of a thorough downpour of rain, the last story in Jewel"s book was called for.
The little circle gathered in the big living-room; there was no question now as to whether Mr. Evringham should be present.
"It is Hobson"s choice this time," said Mrs. Evringham, "so we"ll all choose the story, won"t we?"
"Let Anna Belle have the turn, though," replied Jewel. "She chose the first one and she must have the last, because she doesn"t have so much fun as the rest of us." She hugged the doll and kissed her cheeks comfortingly. It was too true that often of late Anna Belle did not accompany all the excursions, but she went to bed with Jewel every night, and it was seldom that the child was too sleepy to take her into full confidence concerning the events of the day; and Anna Belle, being of a sedentary turn and given to day dreams, was apparently quite as well pleased.
Now Mr. Evringham settled in a big easy-chair; the reader took a small one by the window, and Jewel sat on the rug before the fire, holding Anna Belle.
"Now we"re off," said Mr. Evringham.
"Go to sleep if you like, father," remarked the author, smiling, and then she began to read the story ent.i.tled
ST. VALENTINE
There was a little buzz of interest in Miss Joslyn"s room in the public school, one day in February, over the arrival of a new scholar. Only a very little buzz, because the new-comer was a plain little girl as to face and dress, with big, wondering eyes, and a high-necked and long-sleeved gingham ap.r.o.n.
"Take this seat, Alma," said Miss Joslyn; and the little girl obeyed, while Ada Singer, the scholar directly behind her, nudged her friend, Lucy Berry, and mimicked the stranger"s surprised way of looking around the room.
The first day in a new school is an ordeal to most children, but Alma felt no fear or strangeness, and gazed about her, well pleased with her novel surroundings, and her innocent pleasure was a source of great amus.e.m.e.nt to Ada.
"Isn"t she queer-looking?" she asked of Lucy, as at noon they perched on the window-sill in the dressing-room, where they always ate their lunch together.
"Yes, she has such big eyes," a.s.sented Lucy. "Who is she?"
"Why, her mother has just come to work in my father"s factory. Her father is dead, or in prison, or something."
"Oh, no!" exclaimed a voice, and looking down from their elevated seat the girls saw Alma Driscoll, a big tin dinner-pail in her hand, and her cheeks flushing. "My father went away because he was discouraged, but he is coming back."
Ada shrugged her shoulders and took a bite of jelly-cake. "What a delicate appet.i.te you must have," she said, winking at Lucy and looking at the big pail.
"Oh, it isn"t full; the things don"t fit very well," replied Alma, taking off the cover and disclosing a little lunch at the bottom; "but it was all the pail we had." Then she sat down on the floor of the dressing-room and took out a piece of bread and b.u.t.ter.