"Pretty neat outfit, isn't it?" he continued, as he stood a moment looking over the lines of the craft, and then lifted the mast.
"Oh, it'll sail, too, it'll sail, too!" cried Jewel, hopping up and down. "Oh, mother, did you ever hear of such a pretty boat?"
"Never," replied Mrs. Evringham. "It must be that some one has come over from one of those fine homes across the pond."
Privately, she was a little surprised by the manner in which Mr. Evringham was making himself at home. He set the mast in its place and then, his arms akimbo, stood regarding Jewel's tense, sun-browned countenance and sparkling eyes.
"How would it be for me to go up to the house and see if we could get permission to take a little sail?" he asked.
"Oh, it would be splendid, grandpa," responded Jewel, "but—but he might say no, and could I get in just a minute first?"
"Yes, come on." The child waited for no second invitation, but sprang into the boat and examined its dry, shining floor and felt its buttoned cushions with admiring awe.
"Hello, see here," said Mr. Evringham, bending over the further side. "Easy, now," for Jewel had scrambled to see. He trimmed the boat while her flaxen head leaned eagerly over.
Beautifully painted in shining black letters she read the name JEWEL.