No one spoke, so Mrs. Evringham broke the momentary silence. "Did he?"
she asked.

"Yes, he said that my cousin Eloise was a very charming little girl."

Jewel wondered why Eloise flushed and looked still sorrier, and why aunt
Madge raised her napkin and turned her laugh into a cough. Perhaps it
teased young ladies to be called little girls. Jewel regretted having
mentioned it.

"I guess he was just April-fooling me," she suggested comfortingly, and
the insistence of her soft gaze was such that Eloise looked up and met a
smile so irresistible, that in spite of herself, her expression relaxed.

The softened look was a relief to the child. "I've heard about you, of
course, cousin Eloise," she said, "and I couldn't forget, because your
name is so nice and--and slippery. Eloise Evringham. Eloise Evringham.
It sounds just like--like--oh, like sliding down the banisters. Don't
you think so?"

Eloise smiled a little. "I hadn't thought of it," she returned, then
relapsed into quiet.

Mrs. Forbes's countenance was stony. "Children should be seen and not
heard," was her doctrine, and this dressmaker's child had an assurance
beyond belief. She seemed to feel no awe whatever in her grandfather's
presence.

The housekeeper caught Jewel's eye and gave her such a quenching look
that thenceforward the little girl succumbed to the silence which the