is rather far uptown for such an early start."

"No. I'll be on hand. I'm used to rising early for a canter. I'll take
it with a cab horse this time. That will be all the difference." And
with this attempt at jocularity, Mr. Evringham shook hands once more and
departed, swallowing his ill-humor as best he could. Any instincts of
the family man which might once have reigned in him had long since been
inhibited. This episode was a cruel invasion upon his bachelor habits.

Left alone, Harry and his wife without a word ascended to their room
and with one accord approached the little bed in the corner where their
child lay asleep.

The man took his wife's hand. "I've done it now, Julia," he said
dejectedly. "It's my confounded optimism again."

"Your optimism is all right," she returned, smoothing his hand gently,
though her heart was beating fast, and the vision of her father-in-law,
with his elegant figure and cold eyes, was weighing upon her spirit.

Harry looked long on the plain little sleeping face, so like his own in
spite of its exquisite child-coloring, and bending, touched the tossed,
straight, flaxen hair.

"We couldn't take her, I suppose?" he asked.

"No," replied the yearning mother quietly. "We have prayed over it. We
must know that all will be right."

"His bark is worse than his bite," said Harry doubtfully. "It always
was; and Mrs. Forbes is there."

"You say she is a kind sort of woman?"

"Why, I suppose so," uncertainly. "I never had much to do with her."

"And your sister? Isn't it very strange that she didn't come in to meet
us? I was so certain I should put Jewel into her hands I feel a little
bewildered."

"You're a trump!" ejaculated Harry hotly, "and you've married into a
family where they're scarce. Madge might have met us at the train, at
least."

"Perhaps she is very sad over her loss," suggested Julia.

"In the best of health. Father said so. Oh well, she never was anything
but a big butterfly and Eloise a little one. I remember the last time
I saw the child, a pretty fairy with her long pink silk stockings. She
must have been just about the age of Jewel."

The mother stooped over the little bed and the dingy room looked
pleasanter for her smile. "Jewel hasn't any pink silk stockings," she
murmured, and kissed the warm rose of the round cheek.

The little girl stirred and opened her eyes, at first vaguely, then with
a start.

"Is it time for the boat?" she asked, trying to