The softened look was a relief to the child. “I've heard about you, of course, cousin Eloise,” she said, “and I couldn't forget, because your name is so nice and—and slippery. Eloise Evringham. Eloise Evringham. It sounds just like—like—oh, like sliding down the banisters. Don't you think so?”
Eloise smiled a little. “I hadn't thought of it,” she returned, then relapsed into quiet.
Mrs. Forbes's countenance was stony. “Children should be seen and not heard,” was her doctrine, and this dressmaker's child had an assurance beyond belief. She seemed to feel no awe whatever in her grandfather's presence.
The housekeeper caught Jewel's eye and gave her such a quenching look that thenceforward the little girl succumbed to the silence which the others seemed to prefer.
After dinner she would have a good visit with grandpa and talk about when father was a little boy. Her hopes were dashed, for just as they were rising from the table, a man was announced, with whom Mr. Evringham closeted himself in the library.
In the drawing-room aunt Madge and cousin Eloise both set themselves at letter-writing, and entirely ignored Jewel. The child looked listlessly at a book with pictures, which she found on the table, until half-past eight, when Mrs. Forbes came to say it was time for her to go to bed.
She rose and stood a moment, turning hesitatingly from her aunt to her cousin.
“Oh, is it bedtime?” asked aunt Madge, looking up from her letter. “Good-night, Julia. I hope you'll sleep well.” Then she returned to her writing.
Eloise bit her lip as she regarded the little girl with a moment's hesitation, but no, she had decided on her plan of action. Mrs. Forbes was observing her. Eloise knew the housekeeper's attitude toward them was defensive, if not offensive. “Good-night,” she said briefly, and looked down again.
“Good-night,” returned Jewel quietly, and went out.