"The Book of Life."

"Come nearer and let me see it."

The ladies-in-waiting were, as usual, grouped near their mistress, and they stared curiously at the peasant boy.

Only Topaz, who at his entrance had bounded from a satin cushion as golden as his flossy coat, leaped upon him with every sign of affection.

Gabriel approached and handed the book to the princess.

She opened it and ran her eye over the gray pages. "I see no fiery letters," she said, and handed it back. The boy opened it. As usual a flaming verse arrested his eye. He pointed with his finger at the words and read aloud:--

"'_He shall call upon me and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble: I will deliver him and honor him_.'"

"'Tis a fair promise," said the princess, "but I see no flaming letters."

"I do, your highness," returned Gabriel simply, and looking into his eyes she knew that he spoke the truth.

She gazed at him curiously. "Where go you now, and what do you do?" she asked, after a pause.

"That I know not," replied Gabriel, "but G.o.d will show me."

"By means of that book?"

"Yes, your highness," and Gabriel bowed his head and moved toward the door.

Topaz followed close at his heel. If Gabriel were going for a walk, why, so much the better. He was going, too.

The boy smiled rather sadly, for he knew the golden dog loved him, and there was no one else anywhere who cared whether he went or came. He stooped and, picking up the little creature, carried him to the princess.

"You will have to hold him from following me, your highness."

The girl took the dog, but he struggled and broke from her grasp, to leap once again upon his departing friend.

"Wait," said the princess, and rose. Gabriel stood, all attention, and gazed at her, where she stood, smiling kindly upon him. "I promised a full reward to whomever returned me my dog. You have not yet received even the window-full of pink and white sweetmeats which I promised you this morning."

Gabriel smiled, too.

"Where is your home, Gabriel, and why are you not returning there?"

"I have no home. It is a long story, your highness, and would not interest you."

"Ah, but it does interest me," and the princess smiled more brightly than ever; "because if you have no home you can remain in our service."

A light flashed into Gabriel's sober face. "What happiness!" he exclaimed.

No answer could have pleased the princess better than the pleasure in his eyes. "Topaz is not willing you should leave him, and neither am I. When you are older, his majesty, my father, will look after your fortunes. For the present you shall be a page."

"Your highness!" protested the Lady Gertrude, "have you considered? The pages are of lofty birth. Will it not go hard with the peasant? Give him a purse and let him go."

The princess answered but did not remove her gaze from the boy's flushed face, while Topaz's cold little nose nestled in his down-dropped hand.

"Gabriel is my friend, be he prince or peasant," she said slowly, "and it will go hard with those who love him not." The young girl's eyes met Gabriel's and then she smiled as light-heartedly as on this morning when she wore the woolen gown. "And now make Topaz dance," she added, "the way he danced in the woods."

The boy's happy glance dropped to the dog, and he raised his finger. With alacrity Topaz sat up, and then Gabriel began to whistle.

How the court ladies murmured with soft laughter, for no one had ever seen such a pretty sight. Not for any of them, not for the princess herself, had Topaz danced as he danced to-day.

"Ah," murmured the princess, "how much more powerful than the whip is love!"

When music and dancing had ceased, she smiled once more upon Gabriel, whose happy heart was full.

"Go now," she said, "and learn of your new duties; but the chief one you have learned already. It is to be faithful!"

CHAPTER XII

THE TALKING DOLL

Mr. Evringham's horseback rides in these days were apt to be accompanied by the stories, which Jewel related to him with much enthusiasm while they cantered through wood-roads, and it is safe to say that the tales furnished full as much entertainment at second hand as they had at first.

The golden dog had deeply impressed Jewel's fancy, and when she finished relating the story, her face all alight, Mr. Evringham shook his head.

"Star is going to have his hands full, I can see," he remarked, restraining Ess.e.x Maid's longing for a gallop.

"Why, grandpa?"

"To hold his own against that dog."

Jewel looked thoughtful. "I suppose it wouldn't be any use to try to teach Star to dance, would it?" she asked.

"Oh, yes. Ponies learn to dance. We shall have to go to a circus and let you see one; but how should you like it every time Star heard a band or a hand-organ to have him get up on his hind legs and begin?"

Jewel laughed and patted her pony's glossy neck. "I guess I like Star best the way he is," she replied, "but grandpa, did you ever _hear_ of such a darling dog?"

"I confess I never did," admitted the broker.

"I should think there was some trick Star could learn," said Jewel musingly.

"Why, of course there is. Tell Zeke you wish to teach Star to shake hands.

He'll help you."

This idea pleased Jewel very much, and in the fullness of time the feat was accomplished; but by the time the black pony had learned that he must lift his little hoof carefully and put it in his mistress's hand, before his lump of sugar was forthcoming, he wished, like the Lady Gertrude, that there had never been a yellow dog in the world.

When next Mrs. Evringham, Jewel, and Anna Belle settled in the ravine to the reading of a story, it was Jewel's turn to choose. When her mother had finished naming the remaining t.i.tles, the child hesitated and lifted her eyebrows and shoulders as she gave the reader a meaning glance. Mrs.

Evringham wondered what was in her mind, and, after a minute's thought, Jewel turned to Anna Belle, sitting wide-eyed against a tree.

"Just excuse me one minute, dearie," she said; then, coming close to her mother's ear, she whispered:--