"Yes," returned the broker, who had the born and bred New Yorker's contempt for the Windy City. "Yes, I know you've got your foot in it, but take it out."
"Great Scott! You'd have me become a rolling stone again?"
"No. I'll guarantee you a place where, if you don't gather moss, you'll even write yourself down as long-eared."
Harry's eyes brightened, and he straightened up, moving Jewel to one side, the better to see his father. "Do you mean it?" he asked eagerly.
The broker nodded. "Take your time to settle matters in Chicago," he said. "If you show up here in September it will be early enough."
The young man turned his eyes toward his wife and she met his smile with another. Her heart was beating fast. This powerful man of whom, until this morning, she had stood in awe, was going to put a stop to the old life and lift their burdens. So much she perceived in a flash, and she knew it was for the sake of the little child whose cheeks were glowing like roses as she looked from one to another, taking in the happy promise involved in the words of the two men.
"Father, will you come back here?" she asked, breathing quickly.
"I'd be mighty glad to, Jewel," he replied.
The child leaned toward the broker, to whose hand she still clung. Starry lights were dancing in her eyes.
"Grandpa, are father and mother and I going to live with you—always?" she asked rapturously.