had
hoped. Some time during the season I shall try to look in on her of
course. You tell her so, Nat, when you write."

"Nonsense, nonsense, Mrs. Evringham. You don't in the least mean it," he
returned cheerfully, with the smile and manner which she could not and
would not endure.

"I do mean it, Nat. I tell you my plans are changed. Eloise and I may go
to Europe."

Naturally she had never thought of Europe until that moment, but that
laughing, caressing light in Nat Bonnell's eyes was insufferable.

"Ah, in that case, of course," he returned, "we couldn't say a word,"
and then he moved to go.

Mr. Evringham urged the visitor to stay to dinner, but he declined and
once more shook hands.

"Good-by, Jewel," he said to the child. "Sunday, you know."

"Yes indeed, I know," she returned, an irresistible tendency to hop
moving her feet. On nearer acquaintance she had found Mr. Bonnell
exhilarating.

"Good-by, Nat," said Eloise.

He looked into the face on which rested a cloud. "I think you might be a
degree more attentive," he suggested.

"How?"

"Oh--take me to the gate, for instance."

Eloise smiled and went with him. He turned with a slight bow that
included the group, and they strolled down the path.

"It's all up, Madge," remarked Mr. Evringham, half smiling. "No use
wriggling, no use staying away from the mother. Might as well yield
gracefully. I think Ballard might have been told, that's all."

"There was nothing to tell, father! How can you be so unkind? That's
just Nat's manner. He is used to everybody liking him, and always having
his own way; but Eloise never--she _never_"--the speaker saw that if she
continued, in a moment more she would be weeping, and she certainly was
not going to weep in this company. So she contented herself by
glaring toward the gate, where could be seen two figures in earnest
conversation.

"I had counted so much on Mrs. Bonnell's influence," Eloise was saying.
"What does mother mean? She knows my mind is made up as to Christian
Science. What is she afraid of?"

Bonnell caught his thumbs in his coat pockets and lifted himself
slightly on his toes. "She is afraid of me."

"Of you?" The girl lifted surprised eyes to his and let them fall again,
her grave face coloring.

"She has always been more or less afraid of me. I'm ineligible, you
know."

"Yes, you are, awfully, Nat," returned Eloise earnestly. "That's what
makes you so nice. Didn't we always have a good time