As they entered the library he turned on the light, and Jewel glanced about with her usual alert and ready admiration.
“Is this your own, own particular room, grandpa?” she asked.
“Yes, where I keep all my books and papers.”
The child's eye suddenly lighted on the yellow chicken, and she looked up at Mr. Evringham with a pleased smile. He had forgotten the chicken, and took the seat before his desk, glancing vaguely about to see which chair would be least heavy and ponderous for his guest. She settled the matter without any hesitation by jumping upon his knee. Jewel had a subject on her mind which pressed heavily, and before her companion had had time to do more than wink once or twice in his surprise, she proceeded to it.
“Do you know, grandpa, I think it's hard for Mrs. Forbes to love people very much,” she said in a lowered voice, as if perhaps the walls might have ears. “I wanted to ask her yesterday morning if she didn't love me whom she had seen, how could she love God whom she hadn't seen. Grandpa, would you be willing to tie my bows?”
“To tie”—repeated Mr. Evringham, and paused.
The child was gazing into his eyes earnestly. She put her hand into her pocket and took out two long pieces of blue ribbon.
“You see, you're my only real relation,” she explained, “and so I don't like to ask anybody else.”
The startled look in her grandfather's face moved her to proceed encouragingly.
“You tie your neckties just beautifully, grandpa; and Mrs. Forbes does her duty so hard, and she wants to have my hair cut off, to save trouble.” Jewel put her hand up to one short pigtail protectingly.