"No," Jewel sighed. "I'd rather bail than keep off the pond. Oh, but I forgot," with a sudden thought, "mother'd get wet if she rowed over and it would be too bad to make her walk through the fields alone."
There was a little silence and then Mr. Evringham turned the horses into the homeward way.
"I begin to feel as if breakfast would be acceptable, Jewel. How is it with you?"
"Why, I could eat"—began the child hungrily, "I could eat"—
"Eggs?" suggested the broker, as she paused to think of something sufficiently inedible.
"Almost," returned the child seriously. Another pause, and then she continued. "Grandpa, wouldn't it be nice if mother had somebody to play with, too, so we could go out in the boat whenever we wanted to?"
"Yes. Why doesn't your father hurry up his affairs?"
Jewel looked at the broker. "He has. He thought it was error for him not to let the people there know that he was going to leave them after a while; so they began right off to try to find somebody else, and they have already."
"Eh?" asked the broker. "Your father is through in Chicago, then? When did you hear that?"
"Mother had the letter yesterday and she told me when I went to bed last night."