cousin Eloise is the prettiest girl in the whole world; and since she
stopped being sorry we've had the most _fun_."

"I wish I could see her!" returned Mrs. Evringham heartily. She longed to
thank Eloise for supplying the sunshine of love to her child while the
grandfather was providing for her material wants. She looked at Jewel now,
a picture of health and contentment, her bits of small finery in watch and
locket standing as symbols of the care and affection she had received.

"Divine Love has been so kind to us, dearie," she said softly, as she
pressed the child closer to her. "He has brought father and mother back
across the ocean and has given you such loving friends while we were gone."

In a future day Mrs. Evringham was to learn something of the inner history
of the progress of this little pilgrim during her first days at Bel-Air;
but the shadows had so entirely faded from Jewel's consciousness that she
could not have told it herself--not even such portions of it as she had
once realized.

"Yes, indeed, I love Bel-Air and all the people. Even aunt Madge kissed me
when she went away and said 'Good-by, you queer little thing!'"

"What did she mean?" asked Mrs. Evringham.

"I don't know. I didn't tell grandpa, because I thought he might not like
people calling me queer, but I asked Zeke."

"He's Mr. Evringham's coachman, isn't he?"

"Yes, and he's the nicest man, but he only told me that aunt Madge had