"Well, I wouldn't say anything to them about the music-box, dearie."

Gladys smiled. "I know. You think I'd be sorry after I let it go; but if I am I'll talk with Vera."

Ellen laughed. "Do you think it will always be enough for you to hear her say 'Ma-ma, Pa-pa?'" she asked.

Gladys smiled and looked affectionately at her good friend; but her lips closed tightly together. Ellen knew all that Vera did; but the nurse loved her still! The child was to have many a tussle with the hard mistress whose chains she had worn all her short life, but Truth had spoken, and she had heard; and Love was coming to help in setting her free.

CHAPTER XIII

A HEROIC OFFER

Jewel told her grandfather the tale of The Talking Doll while they walked their horses through a favorite wood-road, Mr. Evringham keeping his eyes on the animated face of the story-teller. His own was entirely impa.s.sive, but he threw in an exclamation now and then to prove his undivided attention.

"_You_ know it's more blessed to give than to receive, don't you, grandpa?"

added Jewel affectionately, as she finished; "because you're giving things to people all the time, and n.o.body but G.o.d can give you anything."

"I don't know about that," returned the broker. "Have you forgotten the yellow chicken you gave me?"

"No," returned Jewel seriously; "but I've never seen anything since that I thought you would care for."

Mr. Evringham nodded. "I think," he said confidentially, "that you have given me something pretty nice in your mother. Do you know, I'm very glad that she married into our family."

"Yes, indeed," replied Jewel, "so am I. Just supposing I had had some other grandpa!"

The two shook their heads at one another gravely. There were some situations that could not be contemplated.

"Why do you suppose I can't find any turtles in my brook?" asked the child, after a short pause. "Mother says perhaps they like meadows better than shady ravines."

"Perhaps they do; but," and the broker nodded knowingly, "there's another reason."

"Why, grandpa, why?" asked Jewel eagerly.

"Oh, Nature is such a neat housekeeper!"

"Why, turtles must be lovely and clean."

"Yes, I know; and if Summer would just let the brook alone you might find a baby turtle for Anna Belle."

"She'd love it. Her eyes nearly popped out when mother was telling about it."

"Well, there it is, you see. Now I'd be ashamed to have you see that brook in August, Jewel." Mr. Evringham slapped the pommel of his saddle to emphasize the depth of his feelings.

"Why, what happens?"

"Dry--as--a--bone!"

"It _is_?"

"Yes, indeed. We shan't have been long at the seash.o.r.e when Summer will have drained off every drop of water in that brook."

"What for?"

"House-cleaning, of course. I suppose she scrubs out and sweeps out the bed of that brook before she'll let a bit of water come in again."

"Well, she _is_ fussy," laughed Jewel. "Even Mrs. Forbes wouldn't do that."

"I ask you," pursued Mr. Evringham, "what would the turtles do while the war was on?"

"Why, they couldn't live there, of course. Well, we won't be here while the ravine is empty of the brook, will we, grandpa? I shouldn't like to see it."

"No, we shall be where there's 'water, water everywhere.' Even Summer won't attempt to houseclean the bottom of the sea."

Jewel thought a minute. "I wish she wouldn't do that," she said wistfully; "because turtles would be fun, wouldn't they, grandpa?"

Mr. Evringham regarded her quizzically. "I see what you want me to do," he replied. "You want me to give up Wall Street and become the owner of a menagerie, so you can have every animal that was ever heard of."

Jewel smiled and shook her head. "I don't believe I do yet. We'll have to wait till everybody loves to be good."

"What has that to do with it?"

"Then the lions and tigers will be pleasant."

"Will they, indeed?" Mr. Evringham laughed. "All those good people won't shut them up in cages then, I fancy."

"No, I don't believe they will," replied Jewel.

"But about those turtles," continued her grandfather. "How would you like it next spring for me to get some for you for the brook?"

Jewel's eyes sparkled. "Wouldn't that be the most _fun_?" she returned,--"but then there's summer again," she added, sobering.

"What's the reason that we couldn't drive with them to the nearest river before the brook ran dry?"

"Perhaps we could," replied Jewel hopefully "Doesn't mother tell the _nicest_ stories, grandpa?"

"She certainly does; and some of the most wonderful you don't hear at all.

She tells them to me after you have gone to bed."

"Then you ought to tell them to me," answered Jewel, "just the way I tell mine to you."

Mr. Evringham shook his head. "They probably wouldn't make you open your eyes as wide as I do mine; you're used to them. They're Christian Science stories. Your mother has been treating my rheumatism, Jewel. What do you think of that?"

"Oh, I'm glad," replied the child heartily, "because then you've asked her to."

"How do you know I have?"