“No, I hate to,” returned Eloise promptly.
“Then you go away, cousin Eloise, and I will handle the case for you.”
“Oh, are you going golfing?” said Mrs. Evringham that afternoon to her daughter. “Do put on your white duck, dear.”
“Yes, I intend to. I'm going with grandfather.”
“You are?” in extremest surprise. “Oh, wear your dark skirt, dear; it's plenty good enough. Do you mean to say he asked you, Eloise?”
“No, I asked him.”
Mrs. Evringham stood in silent amaze, her brain working alertly. She even watched her daughter don the immaculate white golf suit, and made no further protest.
What was in the girl's mind? When finally from her window she saw the two enter the brougham, Mr. Evringham carrying his granddaughter's clubs, she smiled a knowing smile and nodded her head.
“I do believe I've wronged Eloise,” she thought. “How foolish it was to worry. I've been wondering how in the world I was going to get father to give her a wedding, and how I was going to get her to accept it, and now look! That child has thought of the same thing, and will manage it a hundred times better than I could.”
Jewel stood on the steps and waved her hand as the brougham rolled away. Eloise had seized and squeezed her surreptitiously in the hall before they came out.