ON WEDNESDAY EVENING
“This is my silk dress, grandpa,” said Jewel, coming out on the piazza Sunday morning.
Mr. Evringham was sitting there reading the paper. He looked up to behold his granddaughter standing expectantly.
She had on the cherished frock. Her plump black legs ended in new shoes, the brim of her large hat was wreathed with daisies, snowy ribbons finished her well-brushed braids, while, happiest touch of all, Little Faithful was ticking away on her breast.
“Well, who is this bonnie lassie?” asked Mr. Evringham, viewing her.
“It's my best one,” said Jewel, smilingly, coming close to him.
“I should hope so. If you were anything grander I should have to put on smoked glasses to look at you. Church, eh?” He took the brown pamphlet she carried and examined it.
“Yes. I wish you were coming.”
“Oh, I have an important engagement at the golf club this morning.”
“Have you? Well, grandpa, I was thinking you can't play golf or ride at night, and wouldn't you take me Wednesday evening?”