Mrs. Forbes's eyes widened, and an irrepressible “Well!” escaped from her lips. “Has that young one reverence for anything in heaven above or earth beneath?” she queried mentally.
Mr. Evringham managed to recover himself sufficiently to say, “You shouldn't speak so, Jewel.”
“But you know how it was about the tree of knowledge, grandpa,” replied the child earnestly. “God told Adam not to eat of it, because then he'd believe in good and evil, and that always makes such lots and lots of trouble. The Indians don't have to wear rubbers.”
“Drink your milk, Jewel,” returned Mr. Evringham uncomfortably, not having the temerity to lift his eyes as high as his housekeeper's countenance. “No matter about the Indians. You are a civilized little girl, and you must wear rubbers while you live with me. Mrs. Forbes will very kindly buy them for you.”
“Oh, I have money,” returned Jewel brightly. “I have three dollars,” she added, trying not to say it boastfully. “Fifty cents for every week father and mother are going to be away.”
Mr. Evringham wiped his mustache. “You need not spend any of it for the rubbers,” he returned. “You are buying those to please me.”
“I shall love to wear them to please you, grandpa,” she returned affectionately. “I'll put them on every time I can think of it.”
“Only when it is wet, of course,” he said. “When it is rainy.”
“Oh yes,” she returned, “when it's rainy.”
“Harry looked like my father, and she does, by Jove,” mused Mr. Evringham. “She's like me. Knows what she wants to eat, and cares for a horse, if she is a strange little being.”