"What for?" asked the child.

"Everything."

The housekeeper still stood in the harness room after Jewel had gone away. She bowed her head on her folded hands. "Our Father who art in heaven, forgive me," she prayed. "Forgive me for being a fool. Forgive me for not recognizing Thine angel whom Thou hast sent. Amen."

CHAPTER XXIII

MRS. EVRINGHAM'S CALLER

Mrs. Evringham was busily chewing the cud of sweet fancies only, that afternoon. Following the equestrians in their leafy woodland path, she pictured them as talking of their future, and herself built many castles in the air. "Ah," she thought sentimentally, leaning back in her reclining chair, "how charming is youth--with plenty of money!"

She was roused from these luxurious meditations by the appearance of Sarah, bearing a card on a salver.

"A man!" she exclaimed with annoyance. "I'm not dressed."

Lifting the card, she read it with a start.

"Mr. Nathan Wycliffe Bonnell."

"Tell him I'll be down soon," was all she said; but her thoughts ran swiftly as she hurriedly slipped into her gown. "How in the world comes the boy out here? Just as well that Eloise is away. It would only be painful to her, all the old a.s.sociations." But old a.s.sociations cropped up more and more enticingly for Mrs. Evringham as she made her swift toilet, and by the time she reached the drawing-room her eagerness lent her cordiality a very genuine tone.

"Nat, dear boy, how are you?"

The young man who rose eagerly to meet her would have been noticeable in any crowd. She gazed up into his smooth-shaven, frank face, with its alert eyes and strong chin, and felt a yearning affection for all which he represented to her. "What are you doing out here?"

"Visiting you and Eloise," he answered, with the hearty relish which always characterized his manner when circ.u.mstances were agreeable.

"Where is she?"

"Riding. I don't know when they will come home, either. It's such a charming day, isn't it? So good of you to hunt us up, Nat. We've been out of the world so long. I can't tell you what a rush of memories comes over me at sight of you, you nice, big boy. I do believe you've been growing." She gave a glance of approval at the young man's stalwart proportions.

"Oh, don't humiliate me," he laughed, as she drew him to a divan, where they seated themselves.

"How could you get away at this hour?"

"I'm changing my business, and get a week's vacation thereby. Great luck, isn't it?"

"I hope so. Are you going to do better?"

"Much better. It's only a little matter of time now, Mrs.

Evringham--automobiles, steam yachts, and all the rest of it."

"Ah, the optimism of youth!" she sighed, gazing at the dancing lights in his eyes. "It's very beautiful, and usually entirely unfounded. You look so radiant, my dear. Perhaps you have come out here to let us congratulate you. Have you found that desirable girl? I certainly should be the first to be told, for I always talked to you very plainly, didn't I?"

"Indeed you did, Mrs. Evringham. You always kept my ineligibility before me strenuously."

"A certain _sort_ of ineligibility, dear boy," returned the lady with a flattering cadence. "Your capital did not happen to consist of money.

Tell me all, Nat. Who is she?"

He shook his head. "She's still not impossible, but improbable," he returned.

"Oh, you are too difficult, my dear. Really, I thought at the time our misfortunes fell upon us that it was going to be Miss Caton. She would have been a great a.s.sistance to you, Nat. It isn't as if you could even afford to be a bachelor. In these days so much is expected of them. How is your mother?" Mrs. Evringham made the addition in that tone of fixed sympathy which one employs when only a depressing answer can be expected.

"Very well, thank you."

"You mean as well as usual, I suppose."

"No, I mean well. Wonderful, isn't it?"

"Really, Nat?" Mrs. Evringham straightened up in her interest. "Who did it?"

"She was healed by Christian Science."

"You don't mean it!"

"Indeed I do."

Mrs. Evringham thanked her holy stars that Eloise was absent.

"Well! I never for one moment cla.s.sed your mother as a _malade imaginaire_!" exclaimed the lady.

Her companion raised his eyebrows. "I fancy no one did who knew her."

"You believe it, then?"

"I should be an idiot if I didn't."

"Do you mean to say she is out of her wheeled chair?"

"No chairs for her now. When she wishes to walk she walks."

"Then she always could!" declared Mrs. Evringham.

"I think you know better than that," returned the other calmly.

"How long since?" asked Mrs. Evringham.

"Three months."

Silence.

"Aren't you glad for her?" asked Bonnell with a slight smile of curiosity into the disturbed face. "I ought to have told you at first that osteopathy did it; then after your joy had subsided, break the truth gently."

"Of course I'm glad," returned the other stiffly, "but I'd rather Eloise did not hear of it at once."

"May I know why?"