He continued to watch the child furtively,while she made her arrangements for writing.Finding that no chair in the room would bring her to a proper height for the table,she looked all about,and finally skipped over to the morocco lounge and tugged from it a pillow almost too heavy for her to carry;but she arrived with it at the chair,much to the amusement of Mr.Evringham,who affected absorption in his papers,while he enjoyed the exhibition of the child's energy and independence.
"She's the kind that 'makes old shears cut,'as my mother used to say,"he mused,and turning,the better to view the situation,he found Jewel mounted on her perch and watching him fixedly.
She looked relieved."I didn't want to disturb you,grandpa,but may Iask one question?"
"Yes."
"Did I consult Dr.Ballard this afternoon?"
"Not that I noticed,"returned Mr.Evringham;and Jewel suspected from his expression that she had said something amusing.
"Well,it was a word that sounded like consult that Mrs.Forbes said Idid."
"Insult,perhaps,"suggested Mr.Evringham.
"Oh yes.How do you spell it,grandpa?"
Mr.Evringham told her,and added dryly,"That was rather too strong language for Mrs.Forbes to apply to the fact.""Yes,"replied the child."I knew it was a hating word."Then without further parley she squared her elbows on the table and bent over her sheet of paper.
"I wonder what version of it she'll give her mother,"thought the broker,rummaging vaguely in the pigeon holes of his desk.His labors finally sifted down to the unearthing of a late novel from a drawer at his right hand,and lowering a convenient,green-shaded electric light,he lit his cigar,and was soon lost in the pages of the story.
At last he became conscious that the pencil at the table had ceased to move,and lowering his book he looked up.His granddaughter had been watching for this happy event,and she no sooner met his eyes than,with a smile of satisfaction,she jumped from her morocco perch and brought him a sheet of paper well and laboriously covered.