Mr. Evringham nodded. "I will get you one." He kept on nodding slightly, and Jewel noted the expression of his eyes. Her bright look began to cloud as her grandfather continued to gaze at her.
"You'd like to have a picture of Star to keep, wouldn't you?" she asked softly, her head falling a little to one side in loving recognition of his sadness.
"Yes," he answered, rather gruffly, "and I've been thinking for some weeks that there was a picture lacking on my desk here."
"Star's?" asked Jewel.
"No. Yours. Are there any pictures of you?"
"No, only when I was a baby. You ought to see me. I was as fat!"
"We'll have some photographs of you."
"Oh," Jewel spoke wistfully, "I wish I was pretty."
"Then you wouldn't be an Evringham."
"Why not? You are," returned the child, so spontaneously that slow color mounted to the broker's face, and he smiled.