Jewel: A Chapter in Her Life. Clara Louise Burnham

dear!” gasped Jewel. “Please let me take Anna Belle.” She caught her doll into her arms and met her companion's surprised gaze.

      “I haven't any of them,” he returned, amused. “Don't be afraid.”

      “I'm not afraid,” answered the child promptly. “There is nothing to be afraid of.”

      “I was only going to say,” said the young man, “that if she was ailing I could prescribe for her. I have my case right here.”

      Jewel's startled look fell to the black case. “What's that! Medicine?” she asked softly.

      “It certainly is. So you see you have a doctor handy if anything ails the baby.”

      The child gazed at him with grave scrutiny. “Do you believe in materia medica?” she asked.

      The young doctor threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Well, yes,” he answered at last. “I am supposed to.”

      To his surprise his neighbor returned to the attitude in which he had found her, with one hand over her eyes.

      He ceased laughing and looked at her in some discomfiture. Her mouth was set seriously. There was no quiver of the rosy lips.

      To his relief, in a minute she dropped her hand and began to hum and arrange her doll's hat.

      The conductor approached, and as the doctor presented his ticket, he said, “This little girl's fare is paid, I believe.” The conductor nodded and passed on.

      “I'm to get off at Bel-Air,” said Jewel. “I hope he doesn't forget.”

      “If he does, I shan't,” said the doctor, “for I'm going to get off there myself.”

      The child's eyes brightened. “Isn't that nice!” she returned. Then she lifted Anna Belle and whispered something into her ear.

      “No secrets,” said the doctor.

      “I was just reminding Anna belle how we are always taken care of,” returned Jewel.

      The young man regarded her with increasing interest and curiosity.

      “Don't you wonder how I knew that your fare was paid?” he asked.

      “How did you?”

      “I met Mr. Evringham hurrying through the station. He said his granddaughter was on this train and asked me to look out for a little girl with a doll.”

      “Oh,” returned the child, pleased, “then you know grandpa.”

      “I've known him ever since I was no bigger than you are. But even then,” added the doctor mentally, “I hadn't supposed him capable of sending this baby out from the city alone.”

      Jewel watched the kind eyes attentively. “So you see,” he went on, “all I had to do was to look for Anna Belle.”

      “And you nearly sat on her,” declared the child.

      “I deny it,” returned the doctor gravely. “I deny it. You weren't looking. For one second I was afraid you were crying.”

      “Crying! What would I be crying for, coming to have a lovely visit at grandpa's!”

      “I suppose you are in a hurry to see your aunt and cousin?” remarked the doctor.

      “Yes, but I don't know them. You see,” explanatorily, “they aren't my real relations.”

      “Indeed?”

      “No, aunt Madge is my uncle's wife and cousin Eloise is her little girl, but not uncle Lawrence's.”

      The doctor thought a minute.

      “Really? She is a very charming little girl, is your cousin Eloise. Aren't you going to tell me your name?”

      “My name is Jewel.”

      “And I am Dr. Ballard, so now we are properly introduced.” He smiled upon her with merry eyes, and she responded politely:—

      “I'm very glad you found us.”

      Arrived at Bel-Air, the doctor picked up his case and Jewel followed him from the train. He looked about expectantly for Mrs. Evringham or her daughter. They were not there.

      The little girl's quick eyes discerned a light-haired driver and a brown horse coming around a curve of the pretty landscape gardening which beautified the station. At the same moment Dr. Ballard recognized the equipage with relief.

      “They've sent for you. That is all right,” he said, and 'Zekiel, with one side glance at the little stranger, drew up by the platform.

      “Good-morning, Zeke. Here is your passenger.” He lifted Jewel to her place beside the driver, whose smooth, stolid face did not change expression.

      “Do I wait for Mr. Evringham?” he asked, without turning his head in its stiff collar.

      “No, Mr. Evringham remained in town.”

      “Is there a trunk?” pursued Zeke immovably.

      “How about your trunk, little one?” asked the doctor.

      Jewel produced a paper check. “A man gave grandpa this for it at the boat place.”

      “I'll see to having it sent up then.” The doctor looked along the platform. “It didn't come this trip.” He took the child's hand in his. “I shall see you again before long. Good-by.”

      Jewel looked after his retreating figure with some regret. Her present companion seemed carved out of wood. His plum-colored livery fitted without a wrinkle. His smooth, solemn face appeared incapable of speech.

      The swift horse trotted through the village street at a great pace, and the visitor enjoyed the novel experience so intensely that she could not forbear stealing a look up at the driver's face.

      He caught it. “Ain't afraid, are you?” he asked.

      She looked doubtful. “Is it error for the horse to go so fast?” she returned.

      “Error?” 'Zekiel regarded the child curiously. “Well, I guess it's considered one o' the biggest virtues a horse can have.”

      “Then why did you ask me if I was afraid? You're the third person who's asked me that this morning,” returned Jewel, with wondering inflections in her soft voice. “Are New York people afraid of things?”

      “Well, not so's you'd notice it as a rule,” returned Zeke. “I'm glad if she ain't one o' the scared kind,” he pursued, as if to himself.

      “Oh, this is splendid,” declared Jewel, relieved by her companion's smile; “I don't know as Anna Belle ever had such a good ride. See the trees, dearie! How the leaves are coming out! They aren't nearly so far out in Chicago; but oh,” as the horse turned, “there's a big storm coming! What a black cloud! We're just in time.”

      “I don't see any cloud,” said Zeke, staring about.

      “Why, right there in front of us,” excitedly, pointing at the long opaque mass against the sky.

      “That? Why, that's hills.” Zeke laughed. “The mountain they call it here. Pretty sickly mountain we'd think it was up Berkshire way.”

      “Oh, it's a mountain, Anna Belle,” joyfully, “we're really seeing a mountain!”

      “No you ain't,” remarked Zeke emphatically. “Not by a large majority. Guess Chicago's some flat, ain't it?”

      “We don't have hills, no. So now we're going to see grandpa's park, and the ravine, and the brook, and—and everything!”

      Zeke stole a furtive look at the owner of the joyous voice. The voluminous ribbon bows behind her ears were mostly in evidence, as she bent her face over her doll in congratulation.

      “Left