"Church."

"Heavens, child! Wednesday evening prayer meeting?" asked the broker in perturbation.

"No. It's just lovely reading and singing and interesting stories,"

replied Jewel, endeavoring to paint the picture as attractively as possible.

"H'm. H'm. Do you suppose Mr. Reeves goes?"

"Why, of course," replied the child. "Scientists never stay away."

"Then should I be considered a Scientist if I went? I still have some regard for my reputation."

"A great many visitors go," replied the child earnestly. Then she added, with unmistakably sincere naivete, "I don't mind leaving you in the daytime, because we're used to it; but I was thinking it would make me homesick, grandpa, to go away in the evening and leave you in the library."

Mr. Evringham took her little hand in his. "Have you thought, Jewel," he asked, "how it will be when you leave me altogether?"

"I shall have mother and father then," returned the child.

"Yes; but whom shall I have?"

The question came curtly, and Jewel looked into the deep-set eyes in surprise. "Shall you miss me, grandpa?" she asked wonderingly.

"Whom shall I have, I say?" he repeated.

The child thought a minute. "Just who you had before," she answered, slipping her arm around his neck. "There's Ess.e.x Maid, you know."

The broker gave a short laugh. "Yes. It's lucky, isn't it?" he returned, rather bitterly.

"Do you like to have me with you, grandpa?" pursued the child, pleased.

"Yes; confound it, Jewel, yes."

"Then Divine Love will fix it somehow, for I love to be with you, too."

"You do, eh? Then I'll tell you that I received a letter from your father yesterday. It was a very pleasant letter, but it said they felt obliged, if they could, to stay over a little longer--two or three weeks longer."

The child's face grew thoughtful.

"He said they had just received your letter, and were very pleased and thankful to know that you were happy. He said it would be a business advantage to them to stay, but that they could come home at the appointed time if you wished it. I am to cable them to-morrow, if you do." Silence for a minute while Jewel thought. "Do you think you can be happy with me a little longer than you expected?"

"I do want to see mother and father very much," returned the child, "but I'm just as happy as anything," she added heartily, after a pause.

Mr. Evringham had listened with surprising anxiety for the verdict.

"Very well, very well," he returned, with extra brusqueness, picking up his newspaper. "I guess there won't be anything to prevent my going to that meeting with you Wednesday evening, Jewel. Just once, you understand, once only."

At this moment the brougham drove around to the steps, and Eloise came out upon the piazza. She was a vision of dainty purity in her white gown, white hat, and gloves.

Mr. Evringham rose, lifted his hat, and going down the steps opened the door of the carriage. "A man need not be ashamed to have these two ladies represent him at church," he said, looking into Eloise's calm eyes.

She smiled back at him. There was no suspicion now of sarcasm or stings.

The air she breathed was wholesome and inviting. The lump had been leavened.

Arrived at the hall where the services were held, the girls were ushered into good seats before the room rapidly filled.

They saw Mr. Reeves and his family and Mr. Bonnell come in on the other side, and the latter did not rest until he had found them and sent over a bright, quick nod.

The platform was beautiful by a tall vase of roses at the side of the white reading-desk, and Eloise listened eagerly to the voices of the man and woman who alternately read the morning lesson. The peace, simplicity, and quiet of the service enthralled her. She looked over the crowd of listening, reverent faces with wistful wonder. Nat was among them, _Nat_! Sometimes she glanced across at his attentive face. Nat at church, in the morning; thoroughly interested! She pinched her arm to make quite certain.

Once when they rose to sing, it was the hymn she had heard. The voices swelled:--

"O'er waiting harpstrings of the mind There sweeps a strain, Low, sad, and sweet, whose measures bind The power of pain."

The girl in the white dress did not sing. She swallowed often. The voice of the child at her side soared easily.

"And o'er earth's troubled, angry sea, I see Christ walk; And come to me, and tenderly, Divinely, talk."

What a haven of promise and peace seemed this sunny, simple place of purity.

"From tired joy and grief afar, And nearer Thee, Father, where Thine own children are I love to be."

Jewel, looking up at her companion, was surprised to see her lashes wet and her lower lip caught between her teeth.

"What's the matter, cousin Eloise?" she whispered softly as they sat down.

The girl tried to smile. Words were not at her command. "Gladness," she returned briefly; which reply caused Jewel to meditate for some time.

They had a talk with Nat and were presented to the Reeves family after church, and Eloise felt herself in an atmosphere of love.

Jewel left the group for a private word to Zeke before her cousin should come to enter the brougham. 'Zekiel sat bolt upright in the most approved style, and did not turn his face, even when the child addressed him.

"I've been wondering this morning," she said, "how we can manage for you to come to church, 'Zekiel."

"Oh, I have it six times a week," returned the coachman.

"But it's so lovely just to listen to them read and not have to hunt up the places or anything."

"I'm satisfied with my minister," returned Zeke, almost smiling.

Eloise and Mr. Bonnell came out to the carriage, so there was no further time for talk.

The subject remained in Jewel's mind, however. On Wednesday morning, just before Mr. Evringham went to the station, the child seized him in the hall.

"Grandpa, don't you think it would be nice to go in the trolley car to church to-night?"

"To--where?" asked the broker, frowning.

"This is the night we're going to church, you know."