Jewel clasped him close. "Oh, father," earnestly, "you know you are; and the only reason I said you wouldn't look so nice on Essex Maid is that grandpa has beautiful riding clothes, and when he rides off he looks like a king in a procession. You couldn't look like a king in a procession in the clothes you wear to the store, could you, father?"
"Impossible, dearie."
"But I want you to ride her if you'd like to, and I want mother and me to go to Chicago with you if you're going to feel sorry."
"You really do, eh?"
Jewel hesitated, then turned her head and held out her hand to Mr. Evringham, who took it. "If grandpa won't feel sorry," she answered. "Oh, I don't know what I want. I wish I didn't love to be with so many people!"
Her little face, drawn with its problem, precipitated the broker's plans and made him reckless. He said to his son now, that which, in his carefully prepared programme, he had intended to say about three months hence, provided a nearer acquaintance with his daughter Julia did not prove disappointing.
"I suppose you are not devotedly attached to Chicago, Harry?"
The young man looked up, surprised. "Not exactly. So far she has treated me like a cross between a yellow dog and a step-child; but I shall be devoted enough if I ever succeed there."
"Don't succeed there," returned the broker curtly. "Succeed here."
Harry shook his head. "Oh, New York's beyond me. I have a foothold in Chicago."