.

"What is it, mother; a bag for my skates?"

"No."

"A--a handkerchief?"

"No."

"Oh, tell me, mother, I can't wait."

Mrs. Evringham put the little girl down from her lap and going to the trunk
took from it the only article it still contained. It was a long, flat book
with pasteboard covers tied at the back with little ribbons. As she again
took her seat in the big chair, Jewel leaned against its arm.

"It's a scrap-book full of pictures," she said, with interest.

For answer her mother turned the cover toward her so she could read the
words lettered distinctly upon it.

JEWEL'S STORY BOOK

Then Mrs. Evringham ran her finger along the edges of the volume and let
the type-written pages flutter before its owner's delighted eyes.

"You've made me some stories, mother!" cried Jewel. One of the great
pleasures and treats of her life had been those rare half hours when her
busy mother had time to tell her a story.

Her eyes danced with delight. "Oh, you're the _kindest_ mother!" she went
on, "and you'll have time to read them to me now! Anna Belle, won't it be
the most _fun_? Oh, mother, we'll go to the ravine to read, won't we?"

Mrs. Evringham's cheeks flushed and she laughed at the child's joy. "I hope
they won't disappoint you," she said.

"But you wrote them out of love. How can they?" returned the little girl
quickly.

"That's so, Jewel; that's so, dear."

CHAPTER VIII

THE QUEST FLOWER

The garden in the ravine had been put into fine order to exhibit to Jewel's
father and mother. Fresh ferns had been planted around the still pond where
Anna Belle's china dolls went swimming, and fresh moss banks had been
constructed for their repose. The brook was beginning to lose the
impetuosity of spring and now gurgled more quietly between its verdant
banks. It delighted Jewel that the place held as much charm for her mother
as for herself, and that she listened with as hushed pleasure to the songs
of birds in the treetops too high to be disturbed by the presence of
dwellers on the ground. It was an ideal spot wherein to read aloud, and the
early hours of that sunshiny afternoon found the three seated there by the
brookside ready to begin the Story Book.

"Now I'll read the titles and you shall choose what one we will take
first," said Mrs. Evringham.

Jewel's attention was as unwinking as Anna Belle's, as she listened to the
names.

"Anna Belle ought to have first choice because she's the you