"Over there near the corner. I can see father. It's all right, dear,"
choking a little. "Jewel was skipping and laughing a minute ago. It will
only be a few weeks, but confound it," violently, "next time we'll take
her!"

Julia buried her face in the roses, on which twinkled a sudden dew, and
tried to gather promise from their sweet breath.

Jewel strained her eyes to follow the now indistinguishable forms on the
lofty deck, and her grandfather looked down at the small figure in the
sailor suit, the short thick pigtails of flaxen hair tied with large
bows of ribbon, and the doll clasped in one arm. At last the child
turned her head and looked up, and their eyes met for the first time.

"Jove, she does look like Harry!" muttered Mr. Evringham, and even as he
spoke the plain little face was illumined with the smile he knew, that
surpassingly sweet smile which promised so much and performed nothing.

The child studied him with open, innocent curiosity.

"I can't believe it's you," she said at last, in a voice light and
winning, a voice as sweet as the smile.

"I don't wonder. I don't quite know myself this morning," he replied
brusquely.

"We have a picture of you, but it's a long-ago one, and I thought
by this time you would be old, and--and bent over, you know, the way
grandpas are."