dfather all day, could look so forbidding; but in her happy excitement
she could not refrain from smiling at him under the nodding hat brim.

"I'm going to dinner with him," she said softly, "and I _think_ we're going
to have Nesselrode pudding."

The young man's eyes stared and then began to twinkle. "Oh," he returned,
"in that case"--then he turned and left the visitors.

When he entered the sanctum of his employer he was smiling. Mr. Evringham
did not look up at once. When he did, it was with a brief, "Well?"

"A young lady insists upon seeing you, sir."

"Kindly stop grinning, Masterson, and tell her she must state her
business."

"She has done so, sir," but Masterson did not stop grinning. "She looks
like a summer girl, and I guess she is one."

Mr. Evringham frowned at this unprecedented levity. "What is her business,
briefly?" he asked curtly.

"To eat Nesselrode pudding, sir."

The broker started. "Ah!" he exclaimed, and though he still frowned, he
reflected his junior's smile. "Is there some one with her?"

"A young man."

"Send them in, please."

Masterson obeyed and managed to linger until his curiosity was both
appeased and heightened by seeing Jewel run across the Turkish rug and
completely submerge the stately gray head beneath the brim of her hat.

"Well, I'll--be--everlastingly"--thought Masterson, as he softly passed out
and closed the door behind him. "Even Achilles could get it in the heel,
but I'll swear I didn't believe the old man had a joint in his armor."

Zeke stood twisting his hat, and when his employer was allowed to come to
the surface, he spoke respectfully:--

"Mother said I was to bring word if you would like a late supper, sir."

"Tell Mrs. Forbes that it will be only something light, if anything. She
need not prepare."

Jewel danced to the door with her escort as he went. "Good-by, Zeke," she
said gayly. "Thank you for bringing me."

"Good-by, Jewel," he returned in subdued accents, and stumbling on the
threshold, passed out with a furtive wave of his hat.

The child returned and jumped into a chair by the desk, reserved for the
selected visitors who succeeded in invading this precinct. "I suppose you
aren't quite through," she said, fixing her host with a blissful gaze as he
worked among a scattered pile of papers.

"Very nearly," he returned. He saw that she was near to bubbling over with
ideas ready to pour out to him. He knew, too, that she would wait his time