Jewel by Clara Louise BurnhamA Chapter in Her Life (page 3)

she descended the stairs with the tray. “I suppose her mother is uneducated and uses queer English. As the old ones croak, the young ones learn. The child uses words nobody ever heard of, and is ignorant of the commonest ones. I’m glad she’s so fond of me if I’ve got to take care of her.”

CHAPTER XI

DR. BALLARD

Mr. Evringham looked about, half in apprehension, half in anticipation, as he entered the dining-room the following morning. Jewel had not arrived, so he settled himself to read his paper. Each time there was a sound he glanced up, bracing himself for the approach of light feet, beaming face, and an ardent embrace. His interest in the news gradually lessened, and his expectancy increased. She did not come. At last he began to suspect that the unprecedented had happened, and that Mrs. Forbes herself was late.

He looked at his watch with suddenly rising amazement. It was ten minutes past the appointed time. He began feeling around with his foot for the electric bell. It was an unaccustomed movement, for his wishes were usually anticipated. By the time he found it, he had become a seriously injured man, and the peal he rang summoned Sarah suddenly.

“Bring me my coffee at once, if you please. What is the matter?”

The maid did not know. He was drinking his first cup when the housekeeper entered the room, flushed of countenance.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Mr. Evringham. I couldn’t come a minute sooner. Julia is sick.”

“Sick! I should like to know why?”

“Why, she got sopping wet in that brook yesterday, and here, just as I knew it would be, she’s got a fever.”

“A fever, eh?” repeated Mr. Evringham in a startled tone.

“Yes, sir, and what’s more, when I told her you would send for the doctor, it was worse than about the rubbers. She talked all the rubbish you can think of. I’m sure she’s flighty–said she never had a doctor, that she always got well, and even cried when I told her that that was nonsense.”

“Was she ill all night, do you think?”

“I don’t know. I found her trying to get up when I went to her room, and I saw at once that she wasn’t able to.

“Well, Mrs. Forbes, all I can do is to ask your pardon for adding so much to your cares. Let Sarah bring me my eggs, and then, if you please, telephone for Dr. Ballard to come over before his office hour.”

“I will, sir, but I’ll ask you to see the child before you go to town and make her promise to behave about the doctor. You’d have thought I was asking to let in a roaring lion.”

“Shy, probably.”

“Shy! That child shy!” thought Mrs. Forbes.

“She knows Dr. Ballard,” continued the broker, “and if you had thought to mention him, she wouldn’t have made any fuss.”

“If you’ll excuse me differing with you, Mr. Evringham, I don’t think that child’s got a shy bone in her body. In the trolley car yesterday, didn’t she make up to a perfect stranger! She eyed him and fingered that little gold pin she wears, till he smiled and touched one of the same pattern in his own cravat. Young as she is, she’s some kind of a free mason or secret society, you may be sure. I actually saw him take her hand and give her the grip as he got out of the car. Why you know who it is, it was Mr. Reeves of Highland Street.”

“H’m. You are imaginative, Mrs. Forbes. Mr. Reeves is fond of children, and Jewel has a friendly way of looking at people.”

The housekeeper bridled. “Well, all is, I guess, you’ll find I ain’t imaginative when you come to talk with her about the doctor,” was the firm response. “When I said medicine she looked as scared as if I’d said poison.”

“H’m. Been dosed then. Mother an allopath probably. Burnt child dreads the fire. I think homeopathy is the thing for children. Guy will do very well. Call him up at once, please. He might go out.”

When Mr. Evringham had finished his breakfast, he climbed to the white room, planning as he went a short and peremptory speech to the rebellious one; for he had less time left than usual for his daily talk with his housekeeper before catching the train.

The curtains in the room were half drawn as he entered, and the child’s figure looked small in the big white bed. She exclaimed as he drew near, and seizing his hand, kissed it.

“You’d better not kiss me, grandpa, because I’m so hot and uncomfortable,” she said thickly. “Oh, how I wanted to see you all night!”

The little hands clinging to his were burning. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I’m very sorry for this, Jewel. It’s your own fault, I understand, my girl.”

“Yes, I know it is. When I first called the house Castle Discord and talked to Anna Belle about the error fairy, and the enchanted maiden, and the giantess, I didn’t see it was hate creeping in and making me not careful to deny it all. I know it is all my fault.”

Mr. Evringham gazed at the flushed face with startled eyes. “Dear me, this is really very bad!” he thought. “Delirious so early in the morning. I wish Guy would come!”

“Well, we’ll soon have Dr. Ballard here,” he said aloud, trying to speak soothingly. “He’ll set you all right very soon.”

“Oh, grandpa, dear grandpa,” with the utmost earnestness, “would you please not send for the doctor? I won’t be any trouble. I don’t want anything to eat, only a drink of water, and I’ll soon be well.”

Her beseeching tone and her helplessness touched some unsuspected chord in her listener’s breast.

“Jewel, don’t you want to go out to the stable with me and feed Essex Maid with sugar?” he asked.

“Yes, grandpa,” with a half sob.

“You don’t want me to be unhappy and worried about you when I get into my office?”

“No, grandpa.”

“And you liked Dr. Ballard, I’m sure, when you came out with him on the train day before yesterday.”

“Day before yesterday! Oh, /was/ it? It seems a year ago! But I wanted to come and see you so much I was willing to let father and mother go away, and I never thought that I wouldn’t know when error was getting hold of me.

“Well, never mind now, Jewel. Dr. Ballard will help you, and as soon as you get well I’ll take you for a fine long drive, if you’ll be good. I’m sure you don’t want to trouble me.”

“No.” Another half sob caught the child’s throat. “Here is something I bought for you yesterday, grandpa.” She drew from under the further pillow the yellow chicken, somewhat disheveled, and put it in his hand. “I meant to give it to you last night, but Mrs. Forbes kept me upstairs because she thought she ought to make me sorry, and so I couldn’t.”

The stockbroker cleared his throat as he regarded his new possession. “It was kind of you, Jewel,” he returned. “I shall stand it on my desk. Now–ahem”–looking around the big empty room, “you won’t be lonely, I hope, until the doctor comes?”

“No, I’d like to be alone, I have so much work to do.”

“Dear me, dear me!” thought Mr. Evringham, “this is very distressing. She seems to have lucid intervals, and then so quickly gets flighty again.”

“Besides, I like to think of the Ravine of Happiness,” continued the child, “and the brook. Supposing I could lay my cheek down in the brook now. The water is so cool, and it laughs and whispers such pretty things.”

“Now if you would try to go to sleep, Jewel,” said Mr. Evringham, “it would please me very much. Good-by. I shall come to see you again to-night.” He stooped his tall form and kissed the child’s forehead, and her hot lips pressed his hand, then he went out.

At the foot of the stairs he encountered Mrs. Forbes waiting, and hastily put behind him the hand that held the chicken.

“Well, sir?”

“She’s very badly off, very badly off, I’m afraid.”

“I hope not, sir. Children are always flighty if they have a little fever. What about dinner, sir?”

“Have anything you please,” returned Mr. Evringham briefly. “I wish to see Dr. Ballard as soon as he arrives. Tell Zeke I shall not go until the next train.” With these words the broker entered his study, and his housekeeper looked after him in amazement. It was the first time she had ever seen him indifferent concerning his dinner.

“I wonder if he thinks she’s got something catching,” she soliloquized. Then a sudden thought occurred to her. “No great loss without some small gain,” she thought grimly. ” ‘T would clear the house.”

She watched at the window until she saw Dr. Ballard’s buggy approaching. Then she opened the door and met him.

“Your little visitor do you say?” asked the young doctor as he greeted her and entered. “What mischief has she been up to so soon?”

“Oh, the usual sort,” returned Mrs. Forbes, and recounted her grievances. “She’s the oddest child in the world,” she finished, “and her last freak is that she doesn’t want to have a doctor.”

“Dear me, what heresy!” The young man smiled. “Which room, Mrs. Forbes?”

“Please go into the library first, Dr. Ballard. Mr. Evringham is waiting to see you.”

The broker was sitting before his desk as the doctor entered, and he turned with a brief greeting.

“I’m glad you’ve come, Ballard. I’m very much troubled about the child. Her father and mother abroad you understand, and I feel the responsibility. She seems very flighty, quite wild in her talk at moments. I wished to warn you that one of her feverish ideas is that she doesn’t want a doctor. You will have to use some tact.”

The physician’s face lost its careless smile. “Delirious, you say?”

“Yes, go right up, Guy. I’ll wait for you here. It’s so sudden. She was quite well, to all appearances, yesterday.”

“Children are sensitive little mortals,” remarked Dr. Ballard, and then Mrs. Forbes ushered him up to the white room. He asked her to remain within call, and entered alone.

The child’s eyes were open as he approached the bed, the black case she remembered in his hand. By her expression he saw that her mind was clear.

“Well, well, Jewel, this isn’t the way I meant you to receive me the first time I called,” he said pleasantly, drawing up a chair beside the bed. The child put out her hand to his offered one and tried to smile. As he held the hand he felt her pulse. “This isn’t the way to behave when you go visiting,” he added.

“I know it isn’t,” returned Jewel contritely.

“The next time you go wading in the brook, take off your shoes and stockings, little one, and I think you would better wait until later in the season, anyway. You’ve made quick work of this business.” As he talked the doctor took his little thermometer out of its case. “Now then, let me slip this under your tongue.”

“What is it?” asked Jewel, shrinking.

“What! Haven’t you ever had your temperature tried? Well, you have been a healthy little girl! All the better. Just take it under your tongue, and don’t speak for a minute, please.”

“Please don’t ask me to. I can’t.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. It won’t hurt you.” The doctor smiled.

“I know what that is now,” said Jewell, regarding the little tube. “A man was cured of paralysis once by having a thing like that stuck in his mouth. He thought it was meant to cure him. I haven’t paralysis.”

The doctor began to consider that perhaps Mr. Evringham had not exaggerated. “Come, Jewel,” he said kindly. “I thought we were such good friends. You are wasting my time.”

A moment more of hesitation, and then the child suddenly opened her mouth and accepted the thermometer. She kept her eyes closed during the process of waiting, and at last Dr. Ballard took out the little instrument and examined it.

“Let me see your tongue.”

The child stared in surprise.

“Put out your tongue, Jewel,” he repeated kindly.

“But that is impolite,” she protested.

He changed his position. The poor little thing was flighty, and no wonder, with such a temperature. He took her hand again. “I’ll overlook the impoliteness. Run out your tongue now. Far as you can, dear.”

The child obeyed.

Presently she said, “I feel very uncomfortable, Dr. Ballard. I don’t feel a bit like visiting, so if you wouldn’t /mind/ going away until I feel better. You interrupted me when you came in. I have lots of work to do yet. When I get well I’d just love to see you. I’d rather see you than almost anybody in Bel-Air.”

“Yes, yes, dear. I’ll go away very soon. Where does your throat feel sore? Put your finger on the place.”

Jewel looked up with all the rebuke she could convey. “You ought not to ask me that,” she returned.

Dr. Ballard rose and went to the door. “Get me a glass of water, please, Mrs. Forbes.”

“Not a glass. I want a whole pitcher full right side of me,” said Jewel.

“Yes, a pitcher full also, if you please, Mrs. Forbes. Just let the maid bring them up.”

The doctor returned to the bedside. “Now we’ll soon forget that you wet those little feet,” he said.

“That didn’t do me any harm, that clean sweet brook. Mrs. Forbes didn’t know what was the real matter.”

“What was it, then?”

“My own fault,” said Jewel, speaking with feverish quickness and squeezing the doctor’s hand. “When I came here I found that nobody loved one another and everybody was afraid and sorry, and instead of denying it and helping them, I began voicing error and calling them names. I didn’t keep remembering that God was here, and I called it Castle Discord and called Mrs. Forbes the giantess, and aunt Madge the error fairy, and cousin Eloise the enchanted maiden, and of course how could I help getting sick?”

Dr. Ballard leaned toward her. Was this an impromptu tale, or was it a fact that this child had been coldly treated and unhappy? “You have a sensitive conscience, Jewel,” he returned.

Here Sarah entered, set down the tray with pitcher, glasses, and spoon, and departed. The doctor loosed the little hand he had been holding, took up his case, and opened it.

Jewel watched him with apprehension. “That’s–medicine isn’t it?” she asked with bated breath.

“Yes.” The doctor carefully selected a bottle of liquid and set it on the table. “I think this one will do us.”

Jewel’s remark on the train about materia medica recurred to him, and he smiled.

“Dr. Ballard, aren’t you a Christian?” she asked suddenly.

He glanced up. “I hope so.”

“Then you’ll forgive me if I won’t take medicine. I put out my tongue, and I sucked the little glass thing because I didn’t want to trouble you; but I have too much faith in God to take medicine.” The child looked at the doctor appealingly.

He began to see light, and in his surprise, for a moment he did not reply.

“Jesus Christ would have used drugs if they had been right,” she added.

“But He isn’t here now,” returned the astonished young man.

“Why, Dr. Ballard,” in gentle reproach, “Christ is the Truth of God. Isn’t He here now, healing us and helping us just the same as ever? Didn’t He say He would be? You will see how much better I shall be to-night.”

Dr. Ballard met the heavy eyes with his own kind, clear ones. “I see you have been taught in new ways, Jewel,” he said seriously, “but you are only a little girl, and while you are in your grandfather’s house you ought to do as he wishes. He wishes you to let me prescribe for you. No one who is ill can help making trouble. You have no right not to try to get well in the way Mr. Evringham and Mrs. Forbes wish you to.”

Jewel felt herself in a desperate position. The corners of her lips twitched down. Dr. Ballard thought he saw his advantage, and leaned his fine head toward her. She impulsively threw her arms around his neck.

“You don’t want to hurt my feelings, Jewel,” he said. She was crying softly.

“No–it would make me–very–sorry, but it would be–worse–to hurt– God’s. Please don’t make me, please, please don’t make me, Dr. Ballard!”

She was increasingly excited, and he feared the effect.

“Very well then, Jewel,” he returned. “I don’t want to do you more harm than good.”

“Oh, thank you!” she exclaimed fervently, through her tears.

“But Mrs. Forbes must think you have the medicine. You haven’t told her that you are–ahem–a Christian Scientist. I suppose that is what you call yourself.”

“Yes, sir. A Christian Scientist. Oh, you’re the kindest man,” pursued the relieved child. “I realized in my prayer that you didn’t know it was wrong to believe in material medica, for you reflect love all the time.”

While she was talking and wiping her eyes the doctor took the pitcher and one of the glasses to the window, and stood with his back to her.

“Now then,” he said, returning, “we’ll put this half glass of water on the table. I put the spoon across it so, and when Mrs. Forbes is next in the room you take a couple of spoonfuls and that will satisfy her. You may tell her that I wanted you only to take it about four times during the day. If you are better when I come back this evening, I will not insist upon your taking any pellets on your tongue. Here is the other glass for you to drink from.”

With a few more kind words Dr. Ballard took his departure, and going downstairs met Mrs. Forbes. “The little girl has a heavy feverish cold. She understands how to take her medicine. She will probably sleep a good deal. Let her be quiet.”

He went on to the study, where Mr. Evringham was waiting, sitting at the desk, his head on his hand, frowning at the yellow chicken. He looked up expectantly as the doctor entered.

“Well?” he asked.

Dr. Ballard came forward and seated himself in a neighboring chair.

“Do you know what you have upstairs there?” he asked in a low tone.

“For heaven’s sake, Guy, don’t tell me it’s something serious– something infectious!” Mr. Evringham turned pale.

The doctor’s sudden smile was reassuring. “It does seem to be infectious to some degree,” he returned, “but I don’t believe you’ll catch it.”

“What are you grinning at, boy?” asked the broker sharply.

“Don’t be alarmed, Mr. Evringham, but the fact is, that you have in your house a small and young but perfectly formed and well-developed specimen of a Christian Scientist.”

“What, man!” The broker grew red again.

Dr. Ballard nodded deliberately. “Your little granddaughter belongs to the new cult; and I can assure you she is dyed in the wool, and moreover is all wool and a yard wide.”

“The devil you say!” ejaculated Mr. Evringham. “But,” he added with a sudden thought, “that may be a part of the poor child’s feverish nonsense. She was full of talk of castles and giantesses and fairies and what not when I was up there.”

“Yes. She is no flightier than you are this minute. All these titles are those she has given to your house and household in the last two days, and according to her diagnosis, it is that indulgence from which she is suffering now, and not from too much brook. She says she has ‘voiced error.’ “

The doctor looked quizzically at his friend, who returned his gaze, nonplussed.

“That’s it–‘error,’ ” rejoined Mr. Evringham, “that’s what she is often saying. This explains her vocabulary, in all probability. She has sometimes the strangest talk you ever listened to. Well, that’s the mother’s doing, of course, and not the child’s fault. I maintain it is not the child’s fault. With it all, Ballard, I tell you she’s a very well meaning child–a rather winning child, in fact. Good natured disposition. I hope she’s not very ill. I do, indeed. Ha! That, then, is why she was so excited at the thought of having a doctor. Tomfoolery!”

“Yes, that was it. We’ve had some argument.” The young doctor smiled. “She doesn’t consider me hopeless, however. She told me that she had mentioned to the Lord that she was sure I didn’t know it was wrong to believe in materia medica.”

No one for years had heard Mr. Evringham laugh as he laughed at this. The doctor joined him.

“I’m not surprised,” said the broker at last. “If there is anything she does not mention to her Creator, I have yet to learn what it is. How did you get around her, Ballard?”

“Oh, I used a little justifiable hocus-pocus about the medicine. That’s all.”

“And you think it’s not anything very serious, then?”

“I think not. Where there’s so much temperature it is a little hard to tell at first with a child. This evening I shall make a more thorough examination. The ice is broken now, and it will be easier. She will be less excited. I see,” glancing at the yellow chicken, whose beady eyes appeared to be following the conversation, “the little girl has found her way even into this sanctum.”

Mr. Evringham cleared his throat as he followed the doctor’s glance. “No,” he responded shortly. “She has not found her way in here yet. That is–my chicken. She bought it for me.”

Dr. Ballard lifted his eyebrows and smiled as he arose.

“Come back before dinner if possible, Ballard. I shall be uneasy.”

CHAPTER XII

THE TELEGRAM

Mrs. Forbes entered Jewel’s room after speaking with the doctor. The little girl looked at her eagerly. A plan had formed in her mind which depended for its success largely on the housekeeper’s complaisance, and she wished to propitiate her.

“I want to fix it so you can call me when you need anything, Julia,” she said. “The doctor has told you about taking the medicine, and here is a little clock I’m going to put on your table right by the bed, and I’ve brought up a bell. I shall leave the farther door open so the sound of this bell will go right down the backstairs, and one of us will come up whenever you ring. Dr. Ballard says it’s best for you to be quiet.”

“Yes’m,” replied Jewel. “Do you think, Mrs. Forbes–would it be too much trouble–would he have time–could I see Jeremiah just a few minutes?”

“See who?”

“Jeremiah–the gentleman who lives with the horses.”

“Do you mean my son Ezekiel?”

“Oh, yes’m. Ezekiel. I knew it was a prophet. He always speaks very kindly to me, and I like him. I wish I could see him just a few minutes.”

Mrs. Forbes was very much astonished and somewhat flattered. “It’s wonderful, the fancy that child has taken to me and mine,” she thought.

“Well, folks must be humored when they’re sick,” she replied. “Let me see,” looking at the little clock, “yes, Mr. Evringham’s missed the second train. There’ll be five or ten minutes yet, and ‘Zekiel’s got to wait anyway. I guess he can come up and see you.”

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Forbes!” returned Jewel.

The housekeeper made her way out to the barn, where her son in his livery was waiting and reading the paper.

“The doctor’s gone, Zeke, and the child wants to see you.”

“Me?” returned the coachman in surprise. “Why the bully little kid!”

“Yes, come and be quick. There won’t be much time. You watch the clock that’s side of her bed, and don’t you be late.”

‘Zekiel followed with alacrity. His mother, starting him up the backstairs, gave him directions how to go, and remained below.

Jewel, her eyes fixed on the open back door of her room, felt a leap of the heart as Zeke, fine in his handsome livery, came blushing and tiptoeing into the room.

“I’m so glad, I’m so glad!” she exclaimed in her soft, thick voice. “Shut the door, please.”

“I told you to remember you’d only got to say ‘Zeke’ and I’d come,” he said, approaching the bed. “I’m awful sorry you’re sick, little kid.”

“Did you ever hear of Christian Science, Zeke?” she asked hurriedly.

“Yes, I did. Woman I knew in Boston cured of half a dozen things. She held that Christian Science did it.”

“Oh, good, good. I’m a Christian Scientist, and nobody here is, and I want to send a telegram to Chicago, to a lady to treat me. Nobody would do it for me but you. /Will/ you?”

It would have taken a hard heart to resist the appeal, and Zeke’s was soft.

“Of course I will,” he answered. “Going right to the station now to take Mr. Evringham. I can send it as well as not.”

“Get some paper, Zeke, in the top bureau drawer. There’s a pencil on the bureau.”

He obeyed, and she gave him an address which he wrote down. “Now this: ‘Please treat me for fever and sore throat. Jewel.’ “

Zeke wrote the message and tucked it into a pocket.

“Now please get my leather bag in the drawer,” said the child, “and take out money enough.”

The young fellow hesitated. “If you haven’t got plenty of money”–he began.

“I have. You’ll see. Oh, Zeke, you’ve made me so happy!”

The coachman’s clumsy hands fumbled with the clasp of the little bag.

“I can do it,” said Jewel, and he brought it to her and watched her while she took out the money and gave it to him. He took a coin, returned the rest to the bag, and snapped it.

“Say, little girl,” he said uneasily, “you look to me like a doctor’d do you a whole lot o’ good.”

Jewel gazed at him in patient wonder.

“Who made the doctor?” she asked.

Zeke stood on one foot and then on the other.

“God did, and you know it, Zeke. He’s the one to go to in trouble.”

“But you’re going to that Chicago woman,” objected Zeke.

“Yes, because she’ll go to God for me. I’m being held down by something that pretends to have power, and though I know it’s an old cheat, I haven’t understanding enough to get rid of it as quickly as she will. You see, I wouldn’t have been taken sick if I hadn’t believed in a lie instead of denying it. We have to watch our thoughts every minute, and I tell you, Zeke, sometimes it seems real hard work.”

“Should say so,” returned ‘Zekiel. “The less you think the better, I should suppose, if that’s the case. I’ve got to be going now.”

“And you’ll send the telegram /surely/, and you won’t speak of it to any one?”

“Mum’s the word, and I’ll send it if it’s the last act; but don’t put all your eggs in one basket, little kid. I know Dr. Ballard’s been here, and now you do everything he said, like a good girl, and between the two of ’em they ought to fix you up. I’d pin more faith to a doctor in the hand than to one in the bush a thousand miles away, if ‘t was /me/.”

Jewel smiled on him from heavy eyes. “Did you ever hear of God’s needing any help?” she asked. “I’ll never forget your being so kind to me, never, Zeke; and when error melts away I’m coming out to the stable with grandpa. He said I should. Good-by.”

As soon as the plum-colored livery had disappeared Jewel drew herself up, took the water pitcher between her hot little hands, and drank long and deeply. Then with a sigh of satisfaction she turned over in bed and drew Anna Belle close to her.

“Just see, dearie,” she murmured, “how we are always taken care of!”

Mrs. Evringham saw Dr. Ballard’s buggy drive away and lost no time in discovering who had needed his services.

“It’s the child,” she announced, returning to Eloise’s room.

“Poor little thing,” returned the girl, rising.

“Where are you going? Stay right where you are. She has a high fever, and they’re not sure yet what it may be. Mrs. Forbes is doing everything that is necessary. Father has waited over two trains. He hasn’t gone to the city yet.”

At the mention of Mr. Evringham Eloise sank back in her chair.

“Dr. Ballard is coming again toward evening,” continued Mrs. Evringham, “and I shall talk with him and find out just the conditions. Mrs. Forbes is very unsatisfactory, but I can see that she thinks it may be something infectious.”

Eloise lifted a suddenly hopeful face. “Then you would wish to leave at once?” she said.

“Not at all. Father would surely hear to reason and send the child to the hospital. They are models of comfort in these days, and it is the only proper place for people to be ill. I shall speak to Dr. Ballard about it to-night.”

As soon as Eloise had seen her grandfather drive to the station she eluded her mother, and gathering her white negligee about her, went softly up to Jewel’s room and stood at the closed door. All was still. She opened the door stealthily. With all her care it creaked a little. Still no sound from within. She looked toward the bed, saw the flushed face of the child and that she was asleep, so she withdrew as quietly.

During the day she inquired of Mrs. Forbes if she could be of any service, but the housekeeper received the suggestion with curt respect, assuring her that Dr. Ballard had said Jewel would sleep a good deal, and should not be disturbed.

Mrs. Evringham overheard the question and welcomed the reply with relief.

Jewel ate the bread and fruit and milk that Mrs. Forbes gave her for her late lunch, and said that she felt better.

“You look so,” returned the housekeeper. The child had not once called her upstairs during the morning. She certainly was as little trouble as a sick child could be.

“If ‘t was anybody else,” mused Mrs. Forbes, regarding her, “I should say that she sensed the situation and knew she’d brought it on herself and me, and was trying to make up for it; but nobody can tell what she thinks. Her eyes do look more natural. I guess Dr. Ballard’s a good one.”

“It don’t seem to hurt you to swallow now,” remarked Mrs. Forbes.

“No’m, it doesn’t, she answered.

“Now then, you see how foolish and naughty it was the way you behaved about having the doctor this morning. Look how much better you are already!”

“Yes’m, I love Dr. Ballard.”

“You well may. He’s done well by you.” Mrs. Forbes took the tray. “Now do you feel like going to sleep again? The doctor won’t come till about six o’clock. Your fever’ll rise toward evening, and that’s the time he wants to see you. I shall sleep in the spare room next you to-night.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Forbes. You are so kind; but you won’t have to,” replied the child earnestly. “Would you please draw up the curtains and put Anna Belle’s clothes on the bed? Perhaps I’ll dress her after a while. It doesn’t seem fair to make her stay in bed when it wasn’t her error.”

“I don’t think you’d better keep your arms out,” returned Mrs. Forbes decidedly. “I’ll put up the curtains, but when you come to try to do anything you’ll find you are very weak. You can ring the bell when you want to, you know. And don’t take your medicine again for an hour after eating. I’d take another nap right away if I was you.”

When she had gone out, Jewel shook her head at the doll, whose face was smiling toward her own. “You denied it, didn’t you, dearie, the minute she said it,” she whispered. “Error is using Mrs. Forbes to hold me under mortal mind laws, but it can’t be so, because God doesn’t want it, and I’m not afraid any more.”

Jewel put her hand under her pillow and drew out the two slips of paper that bore her mother’s messages. These she read through several times. “Of course there are more, Anna Belle. I shouldn’t wonder if there was one in every pocket, but I don’t mean to hunt. Divine love will send them to me just when I need them, the way He did these. I’m sorry I can’t dress you, dearie, because you’ve just reflected love all the time, and ought not to be in bed at all; but I must obey, you know, so there won’t be discord. I’d love to just hop up and get your clothes, but you’ll forgive me for not, I know.”

Again Jewel put her hand under her pillow and drew forth her copy of “Science and Health.” “I’ll read to you a little, dearie.” She opened the book to page 393 and read, “Rise in the strength of Spirit to resist all that is unlike God.” Jewel paused and thought for a minute. “You might think, Anna Belle, that that meant rise against Mrs. Forbes, but it doesn’t. It means rise against all error, and one error is believing that Mrs. Forbes is cross or afraid.” She went on reading for several minutes, passing glibly over familiar phrases and sticking at or skipping words which presented difficulties.

While she was thus employed Eloise again stole quietly to her cousin’s door, and hearing the soft voice she grew pale. Her mother had exacted a promise from her that she would not enter the room until Dr. Ballard consented, so after a minute’s hesitation she fled downstairs and found Mrs. Forbes.

“I think the little girl must be worse! She is talking to herself incessantly.”

Mrs. Forbes regarded the pale face coldly. “I guess there’s some mistake. She was better when I saw her half an hour ago. I’ll go up in a minute.”

The minute stretched to five; Jewel had slept scarcely at all the night before, and by the time the housekeeper had laboriously reached her door, her voice had grown fainter, then stopped, and she was sound asleep.

“I wish Mamzell would keep her finger out of this pie,” soliloquized Mrs. Forbes as she retraced her steps.

When Mr. Evringham returned from the city, his first question, as Zeke met him, was concerning Jewel.

“Mother says she’s slept the most of the day,” replied the coachman, his head stiff in his high collar and his eyes looking straight ahead.

“H’m. A good sign does she think, or is it stupor?”

“I couldn’t say, sir.”

Reaching the house, a long pasteboard box in his hands, Mr. Evringham found that his grandchild was still asleep.

“I fear the worst, Mrs. Forbes,” he said with nervous curtness. “When a stupor attacks children it is a very bad sign I am told. I’ll just ring up Ballard.”

He did so, but the doctor had gone out and was intending to call at the park before he returned.

“I really think it is all right, Mr. Evringham,” said Mrs. Forbes, distressed by her employer’s uneasiness. “Dr. Ballard expected she’d sleep a great deal. He told me not to disturb her.”

“Oh, very well then, perhaps it is not to be regretted. Kindly put those roses in the deep vase, Mrs. Forbes.”

“Yes, sir.” She took up the box. “Besides, Mr. Evringham, if she does get worse, you know the hospital here is one of the very best, and you”–

Mr. Evringham wheeled and frowned upon the speaker fiercely. “Hospital!” he ejaculated. “An extraordinary suggestion, Mrs. Forbes! Most extraordinary! My granddaughter remains in my house.”

Mrs. Forbes, crimson with surprise and mortification, retreated. “Very well, sir,” she faltered. “Will you have the roses on the dinner table, Mr. Evringham?”

“No. Set them here on my desk if you please.” With this Mr. Evringham began walking up and down the floor, pausing once to take up the yellow chicken. During the day the soft moan, “I wanted you so all night, grandpa,” had been ringing in his ears.

“Mrs. Forbes has no understanding of the child,” he muttered, “and of course I cannot expect anything from the cat and her kitten.”

With this he began again his promenade. Mrs. Forbes returned with the roses, and simultaneously Mr. Evringham saw Essex Maid arching her neck as she picked her steps past the window.

“By the way,” he said curtly, “let Zeke take the Maid back to the barn. “I’ll not ride to-day.”

“It’s very fine weather, sir,” protested Mrs. Forbes.

“I’ll not ride. I’ll wait here for Dr. Ballard.”

The housekeeper went forth to give the order.

“I never saw Mr. Evringham so upset in my life,” she said in an awestruck tone.

“I saw the governor wasn’t real comfortable,” returned the boy. “Guess he’s afraid he’s goin’ to catch the mumps or something. It would be real harrowin’ if he got any worse case of big head than he’s got already.”

Mr. Evringham was little accustomed to waiting, and by the time Dr. Ballard appeared, his nervousness had become painful. “The child’s slept too much, I’m sure of it, Ballard,” was his greeting. “I don’t know what we’re going to find up there, I declare I don’t.”

“It depends on whether it’s a good sleep,” returned the doctor, and his composed face and manner acted at once beneficially upon Mr. Evringham.

“Well, you’ll know, Guy, you’ll know, my boy. Mrs. Forbes saw you coming, and she has gone upstairs to prepare the little girl. She’ll be glad to see you this time, I’ll wager.”

The broker, roses in hand, ascended the staircase after the physician. Mrs. Forbes was standing at the foot of the bed, and the room was pleasantly light as they entered. Jewel, the flush of sleep on her cheeks, was looking expectantly toward the door. Dr. Ballard came in first and she smiled in welcome, then Mr. Evringham appeared, heavy roses nodding in all directions before him.

“Grandpa!” exclaimed the child. “Why, grandpa, did /you/ come?”

There was no mistaking the joy in her tone. Dr. Ballard paused in surprise, while the stockbroker approached the bed.

“I brought you a few flowers, Jewel,” he said, while she pressed his disengaged hand against her cheek.

“They’re the most lovely ones I ever saw,” she returned with conviction. “They make me happy just to look at them.”

“Well, Jewel,” said the doctor, “I hear you’ve been making up for lost sleep in great shape.” His eyes, as he spoke, were taking in with concentrated interest the signs in her face. He came and sat beside the bed, while Mr. Evringham fell back and Mrs. Forbes regarded the child critically.

“Well, now, you’re a good little patient,” went on the doctor, as he noted the clear eyes.

“Yes, Dr. Ballard, I feel just as nice as can be,” she answered.

“No thickness in the voice. I fancy that sore throat is better.” The young doctor could not repress his smile of satisfaction. “I was certain that was the right attenuation,” he thought. “Now let us see.”

He took out the little thermometer, and Jewel submitted to having it slipped beneath her tongue.

As Dr. Ballard leaned back in his chair to wait, he looked up at Mr. Evringham. “It is very gratifying,” he said, “to find these conditions at this hour of the day. I felt a little more uneasy this morning than I confessed.” He nodded in satisfactory thought. “I grant you medicine is not an exact science, it is an art, an art. You can’t prescribe by hard and fast rules. You must take into consideration the personal equation.”

Presently he leaned forward and removed the thermometer. His eyes smiled as he read it, and he lifted it toward Mr. Evringham.

“I can’t see it, boy.”

“Well, there’s nothing to see. She hasn’t a particle of temperature. Look here, little one,” frowning at Jewel, “if everybody recovered as quickly as you have, where would we doctors be?”

Turning again and addressing Mr. Evringham, he went on, “I’m particularly interested in this result because that is a remedy over which there has been some altercation. There’s one man to whom I shall be glad to relate this experience.” The doctor leaned toward his little patient. “Jewel, I’m not so surprised as I might be at your improvement,” he said kindly. “You will have to excuse me for a little righteous deception. I put medicine into that glass of water, and now you’re glad I did, aren’t you? I’d like you to tell me, little girl, as near as you can, how often you took it?”

“I didn’t take it,” replied the child.

Dr. Ballard drew back a little. “You mean,” he said after a moment, “you took it only once?”

“No, sir, I didn’t take it at all.”

There was a silence, during which all could hear the ticking of the clock on the table, and the three pairs eyes were fixed on Jewel with such varying expressions of amazement and disapproval that the child’s breath began to come faster.

“Didn’t you drink any of the water?” asked Dr. Ballard at last.

“Yes, out of the pitcher.”

“Why not out of the glass?”

“It didn’t look enough. I was so thirsty.”

They could not doubt her.

Mr. Evringham finally found his voice.

“Jewel, why didn’t you obey the doctor?” His eyes and voice were so serious that she stretched out her arm.

“Oh, grandpa,” she said, “please let me take hold of your hand.”

“No, not till you answer me. Little girls should be obedient.”

Jewel thought a minute.

“He said it wasn’t medicine, so what was the use?” she asked.

Mr. Evringham, seeming to find an answer to this difficult, bit the end of his mustache.

Dr. Ballard was feeling his very ears grow red, while Mrs. Forbes’s lips were set in a line of exasperation.

“Grandpa,” said Jewel, and the child’s voice was very earnest, “there’s a Bible over there on the table. You look in there in the Gospels, and you’ll find everywhere how Jesus tells us to do what I’ve done. He said he must go away, but he would send the Comforter to us, and this book tells about the Comforter.” Jewel took the copy of “Science and Health” from under the sheet.

“God’s creation couldn’t get sick. It’s just His own image and likeness, so how could it? And when you can get right into God’s love, what do you want of medicine to swallow? God wouldn’t be omnipotent if He needed any help. You see I’m well. Isn’t that all you want, grandpa?”

The appeal of her eyes caused the broker to stir undecidedly. “I never did have any use for doctors,” he thought, after the manner of many who, nevertheless, are eager to fly to the brotherhood for help at the first suggestion of pain. Moreover, the humor of the situation was beginning to dawn upon him, and he admired the fine temper and self- control with which the young physician pulled himself together and rose.

“/I/ am glad you are well, Jewel, very,” he said; “but the next time I am called to prescribe for a little Christian Scientist I shall put the pellets on her tongue.” He smiled as he took up his case and said good-by.

Mr. Evringham followed him down the stairs, heroically resisting the impulse to laugh. Only one remark he allowed himself as he bade the doctor good-by.

“You’re quite right, Ballard, in your theory. Jewel has been here only three days, but I could have told you that in doing anything whatever for her, it is always absolutely necessary to consider the personal equation.”

CHAPTER XIII

IN THE LIBRARY

As Mr. Evringham turned from the closed door he met his daughter-in- law coming out into the hall.

“I’ve been watching for Dr. Ballard,” she said with annoyance. “I don’t see why I didn’t hear him come down.” At this juncture she paused, surprised to observe that her father-in-law was laughing. She attributed this unusual ebullition to ridicule of herself.

“I only wanted to ask if Julia’s illness is infectious,” she went on with dignity. “Eloise and I are naturally very anxious. We should like to do anything for her we can, if it is quite safe.”

“Madam, don’t, I pray, for all our sakes, run any risk,” returned Mr. Evringham, his lips still twitching as he bowed mockingly.

“It would be very foolish,” answered Mrs. Evringham, unabashed. “You wouldn’t care to have more invalids on your hands. It has been all I could do to keep Eloise away from the sick room to-day.”

“Is it possible!” commented Mr. Evringham, smoothing his mustache.

“Not only possible but true, and I wished to go to headquarters and find out the exact state of the case.”

Again the broker’s shoulders began to shake.

“Ballard isn’t headquarters,” he replied.

Mrs. Evringham regarded him, startled. She wondered if affairs were perhaps very serious, and her father-in-law’s nerves overstrained. She knew that he had dispensed with the afternoon ride which was so important to him.

She grew a shade paler. “I wish you would tell me, father, just what the doctor said,” she begged.

Mr. Evringham raised a protesting hand. “I couldn’t think of it,” he laughed. “It would give me apoplexy.”

His daughter-in-law began to retreat, and the broker passed her and went into his study, still laughing.

Mrs. Evringham stood with lips parted, looking after him. Her heart beat fast. The doctor had called twice. He had come down the stairs in dead silence just now. She knew it, for she had been listening and waiting to intercept him. She had meant to say a number of pretty things to him concerning Eloise’s anxiety about her little cousin. Her own anxiety redoubled, and she hurried to her daughter’s room and narrated her experience.

“I really think we may have to go, Eloise,” she finished nervously. “Even if it isn’t infectious, it is so dreadfully dispiriting to be in a house where there is a dangerous illness, and possibly worse. I’ve been thinking perhaps we might go in town and take lodgings for a while. No one need know it. We could even stay there through the summer. None of our friends would be in town; then in autumn we could come back here.”

Eloise’s lip curled. “I doubt that,” she returned. “Grandfather will be forearmed. I prophesy, mother, that you will never get our trunks up here again after you once take them out.”

“Really, Eloise, you do put things most repulsively,” returned Mrs. Evringham with vexation. “Besides, how do we know what the future is going to bring forth? Father behaves to me as if he might be on the verge of brain fever himself.”

“Poor little Jewel!” exclaimed the girl. “I hope she will pull through, but if she is the cause of our leaving here, I shall always love her memory.”

“I don’t know whether father will even come to dinner,” said Mrs. Evringham, pursuing her own thoughts, “but I suppose we shall see Mrs. Forbes. I do hope she has some sense about using disinfectants. It’s outrageous for her to come near the dining-room when she is taking care of that child. Of course they’ll have a nurse at once. Forbes doesn’t like going out of her beaten track.”

“I can’t forget that poor little voice rambling on so monotonously this afternoon,” said Eloise. “I strained my ears to listen, but I could make out only that she said something about ‘love’ and then about ‘righteousness.’ What a word for that little mouth.”

“I’ve seen smaller,” remarked Mrs. Evringham.

When finally they entered the dining-room punctually at the appointed hour,–even Mrs. Evringham dared take no liberties with that,–the host was there and greeted them as usual. Mrs. Forbes came in and took her position near him. Her employer gave her a side glance. His fears for Jewel allayed, his regard for his housekeeper’s opinions had returned in full force.

He wished to ask for the little girl, to ask what she was doing now, and what she would like sent up for dinner, but he had not the courage. The aghast countenance which Mrs. Forbes had exhibited at the moment when the enormity of Jewel’s conduct transpired remained in his memory. The housekeeper’s appearance at present was noncommittal. Mrs. Evringham sent her piercing and questioning glances in vain.

The silence in the usually silent room had not had time to become noticeable when the portiere was pushed aside and Jewel, arrayed in the dotted dress and carefully bearing the tall vase of nodding roses, entered the room.

Mrs. Evringham uttered a little cry and dropped her spoon. Eloise stared wild-eyed. The housekeeper flushed.

“Good evening,” said the child, glancing about as she approached, and sighing with relief as she set the heavy vase on the edge of the table. “I had to come down so carefully not to spill, grandpa, that it made me a little late. Mrs. Forbes said you brought me the roses under false–false pretends, so I thought perhaps you would like them on the table.”

The housekeeper, hurrying forward, seized the vase from its precarious position and placed it in the centre of the board. “I didn’t tell you you might come downstairs,” she said, as she buttoned the middle button of Jewel’s dress.

The little girl looked up in innocent surprise. “You said I might dress me, so why should anybody have to bring up my dinner?” she asked.

Mrs. Forbes’s countenance looked so lowering that Mr. Evringham hastened to speak in his brusque and final fashion. “She is here now. Might as well let her stay.”

Jewel jumped into her chair and turned toward him with an apologetic smile. “I couldn’t make my hair look very nice,” she said, with the lift of her shoulders which he had come to connect with her confidential moments. Remembering the feverish child of the morning, he looked at her in silent wonder. The appearance of her flaxen head he could see was in contrast to the trim and well-cared-for look it had worn when she arrived.

“Poor little thing!” he thought. “She looks motherless–motherless.” Involuntarily he cast a glance of impatience at his other guests. The expression of blank amazement on their faces stirred him to amusement.

“If you are afraid of infection, Madge, don’t hesitate to retire to your room,” he said. “Your dinner will be sent to you.”

“What does this mean!” ejaculated Mrs. Evringham. “Why is Dr. Ballard coming twice a day to see that child?”

“To cure her, of course,” returned the broker, his lips breaking into smiles. “Why do doctors generally visit patients?”

“Then when he came the second time he found her well?”

“Ha, ha,” laughed Mr. Evringham, “yes, that’s it. He found her well.”

Eloise and her mother gazed at him in astonishment. Mrs. Forbes’s face was immovable. A sense of humor was not included in her mental equipment, and she considered the whole affair lamentable and unseemly in the extreme.

“Grandpa,” said Jewel, looking at him with gentle reproach, “you’re not laughing at Dr. Ballard, are you? He’s the /kindest/ man. I love him, next to you, best of anybody in Bel-Air”–then thinking this declaration might hurt her aunt and cousin, she added, “because I know him the best, you know. He tried to deceive me about the medicine, but it was only because he didn’t know that there isn’t any righteous deceiving. He meant to do me good.”

Mrs. Evringham looked curiously from the child to her father-in-law. As she herself said later, she had never felt so “out of it” in her life. As the subject concerned Dr. Ballard, she wished to understand clearly what circumstance could possibly have induced Mr. Evringham to laugh repeatedly.

“I was passing your door this afternoon,” said Eloise, addressing Jewel, “and I heard you talking. I knew there was no one with you, and I feared you were very ill.”

The little girl was always pleased when her beautiful cousin looked at her.

“I guess I was reading. Of course I was in a hurry to get well, so as soon as the fever was gone and I felt comfortable, I began to read out loud from ‘Science and Health’ to Anna Belle. She’s a Christian Scientist, too.”

The faces of Mrs. Evringham and Eloise were studies as they gazed at the speaker.

Mr. Evringham glanced at them maliciously under his heavy brows as Sarah brought in the second course.

“Is Anna Belle your doll?” asked Eloise, for the moment sufficiently interested almost to lose her self-consciousness.

“Yes,” eagerly. “Would you like to see her?” Jewel gave a fleeting glance at Mrs. Forbes. “She always comes to the table with me at home,” she added.

“Sit still,” murmured Mrs. Forbes in low, sepulchral warning.

“Now then, Jewel,” said Mr. Evringham as he began to serve the filet, “you didn’t take the doctor’s medicine. What do you think made that high fever go away?”

The little girl looked up brightly. “Oh, I telegraphed to Mrs. Lewis, one of mother’s friends in Chicago, to treat me.”

“The dev– What do you mean, child?”

Mr. Evringham gazed at her, and his tone was so fierce, although he was only very much amazed, that Jewel’s smile faded. The corners of her lips drew down pitifully, and suddenly she slipped from her chair, and running to him threw her arms around his neck and buried her averted face, revealing two forlorn little flaxen pigtails devoid of ribbons.

“What’s this, Jewel?” he said quickly, fearfully embarrassed before his wondering audience. “This is very irregular, very irregular.” He dropped his fork perforce, and his hand closed over the little arm across his cravat.

Jewel was trying to control a sob that struggled to escape, and saying over and over, as nearly as he could understand, something about God being Love.

“Go right back to your chair now, like a good girl.”

“Do you–love me?” whispered Jewel.

“Yes–yes, I do.”

“You spoke like”–a sob–“like hating.”

“Not at all, not at all,” rejoined Mr. Evringham quickly, “but I was very much surprised, very.”

“Shall I take her upstairs, sir?” asked Mrs. Forbes, nearly bursting with the outrage of such an interruption to her employer’s sacred dinner.

“No, she’s going to sit right down in her chair and not make any trouble. Don’t you like those roses I brought you, Jewel?” he added awkwardly, hoping to make a diversion. He was successful. She lowered her face, a fleeting April smile flitting over it.

“Did grandfather bring you those lovely roses?” asked Eloise.

Mr. Evringham flashed her his first glance of approval for so quickly taking the cue.

“Yes,” replied the child, her breath catching as she went back to her chair. “I seemed so sick when he went away this morning was the reason; so now I’m well again–they belong to everybody, don’t they, grandpa?”

Mr. Evringham paused to consider a reply. He desired to be careful in public not to draw upon himself that small catapult.

“They belong to you still, Jewel. I never take back my presents,” he returned at last.

“And I think Mrs. Forbes was mistaken about the false pretends,” said the child, swallowing and looking apologetically at the housekeeper, “because who would pretend such error as sickness, and of course you’d know I didn’t pretend.”

“Certainly not,” said Mr. Evringham. “Mrs. Forbes didn’t mean that. The whole thing seems like a dream now,” he added.

“What else could it seem like?” returned Jewel, smiling faintly toward her grandfather with an air of having caught him napping.

“Like reality,” he returned dryly.

She gazed at him, her smile fading.

He looked up apprehensively and cringed a little, not at all sure that the next instant would not find the rose-leaf cheek next his, and a close whisper driving cold chills down his back; but the child only paused a moment.

“Reality is so much different from sin, disease, and death,” she said at last, in a matter-of-fact manner. It was too much for Mrs. Evringham’s risibles. She laughed in spite of her daughter’s reproachful glance.

“How wonderful if true!” she exclaimed.

“It is true,” returned Jewel soberly. “Even Anna Belle knows that; but I’m sure that you haven’t learned anything about Christian Science, aunt Madge,” she added politely.

“What makes you so sure?” returned Mrs. Evringham banteringly.

Jewel flushed with embarrassment and glanced at her grandfather involuntarily, but he was busy eating and evidently would not help her.

“I’d rather not say,” replied the child at last, and her rejoinder incited her aunt to further merriment.

“Aunt Madge doesn’t laugh in a nice way,” thought Jewel. “It’s even pleasanter when she looks sorry.”

“What is real then, Jewel?” asked Eloise gravely.

The child flashed upon her a sweet look.

“Everything good and glad,” she answered.

Something rose in the girl’s throat, and she pressed her lips together for an instant.

“You are happy to believe that,” she returned.

“Oh, I don’t believe it,” replied Jewel. “It’s one of the things I /know/. Mother says we only believe things when we aren’t sure about them. Mother knows such a lot of beautiful truth.”

The child looked at her cousin wistfully as she spoke. Eloise could scarcely retain her proud and nonchalant bearing beneath the blue eyes. They seemed to see through to her wretchedness.

She did not look at Jewel again during dinner. At the close Mr. Evringham pushed his chair back.

“I should like you to come with me into my study, Jewel, for a few minutes.”

The child’s face brightened, and she left the table with alacrity. Mr. Evringham stood back to allow his guests to pass out. They went on to the drawing-room, where Mrs. Evringham’s self-restraint was loosed.

“The plot thickens, Eloise!” she said.

“And we are not going away,” returned the girl.

“Decidedly not,” declared her mother with emphasis.

“There is no hope of our catching anything that Jewel has now,” went on Eloise.

Her mother glanced at her suspiciously. “What, for instance?”

“Oh,” returned the girl, shrugging her shoulder, “faith, hope, and charity.”

Mrs. Evringham laughed. “Indeed! Is the wind in that quarter? Then with the Christian Science microbe in the house, there’s no telling what may happen to you. Something more serious than a fever, perhaps.” She nodded knowingly. “This sudden recovery looks very queer to me. I’d keep the child in bed if I were in authority. Some diseases are so treacherous. There’s walking typhoid fever, for instance. She may have it for all we know. I shall have a very serious talk with Dr. Ballard when he comes.”

An ironical smile flitted over the girl’s lips as she drifted toward the piano. “I judge from the remarks at the table, that the less you say to Dr. Ballard on the subject of to-day’s experiences the better.”

“I know it,” indignantly. “I’m sure that child must have played some practical joke on him. I want to get to the bottom of it. What a strange little monkey she is! How long will father stand it? What did you think, Eloise, when she swooped upon him so suddenly?”

“I thought of just one sentence,” returned the girl. ” ‘Perfect love casteth out fear.’ “

“Why in the world should she love him?” protested Mrs. Evringham.

“She would love us all if we would let her,” returned Eloise, the phrases of “Vogel als Prophete” beginning to ripple softly from beneath her fingers. “I saw it from the first. I felt it that first evening, when we behaved toward her like a couple of boors. Any one can see she has never been snubbed, never neglected. She got out of the lap of love to come to this icebox. No wonder the change of temperature made her ill!”

“Why, Eloise, what has come over you? You never used to be disagreeable. It’s a good thing the child is amiable. It’s the only thing left for a plain girl to be.”

“No one will ever remember that she is plain,” remarked Eloise.

Her mother raised her eyebrows doubtingly. “Perhaps your perceptions are so keen that you can explain how Jewel managed to telegraph to Chicago to-day,” she said. “It reminded me of Dooley’s comments on Christian Science. Do you remember what he said about ‘rejucin’ a swellin’ over a long distance tillyphone’?”

“I can’t imagine how she managed it,” admitted Eloise.

Neither could Mr. Evringham. He had taken Jewel into his study now with the intention of finding out, deeming a secluded apartment more desirable for catechism which might lay him liable to personal attack.

As they entered the library he turned on the light, and Jewel glanced about with her usual alert and ready admiration.

“Is this your own, own particular room, grandpa?” she asked.

“Yes, where I keep all my books and papers.”

The child’s eye suddenly lighted on the yellow chicken, and she looked up at Mr. Evringham with a pleased smile. He had forgotten the chicken, and took the seat before his desk, glancing vaguely about to see which chair would be least heavy and ponderous for his guest. She settled the matter without any hesitation by jumping upon his knee. Jewel had a subject on her mind which pressed heavily, and before her companion had had time to do more than wink once or twice in his surprise, she proceeded to it.

“Do you know, grandpa, I think it’s hard for Mrs. Forbes to love people very much,” she said in a lowered voice, as if perhaps the walls might have ears. “I wanted to ask her yesterday morning if she didn’t love me whom she had seen, how could she love God whom she hadn’t seen. Grandpa, would you be willing to tie my bows?”

“To tie”–repeated Mr. Evringham, and paused.

The child was gazing into his eyes earnestly. She put her hand into her pocket and took out two long pieces of blue ribbon.

“You see, you’re my only real relation,” she explained, “and so I don’t like to ask anybody else.”

The startled look in her grandfather’s face moved her to proceed encouragingly.

“You tie your neckties just beautifully, grandpa; and Mrs. Forbes does her duty so /hard/, and she wants to have my hair cut off, to save trouble.” Jewel put her hand up to one short pigtail protectingly.

“And you don’t want it cut off, eh?”

“No; and mother wouldn’t either. So it would be error, and I’m sure I could learn to fix it better than I did to-night, if you would tie the bows. Just try one right now, grandpa.”

“With the house full of women!” gasped Mr. Evringham.

“But none of them my real relatives,” replied Jewel, and she turned the back of her head to him, putting the ribbons in his hands.

His fingers fumbled at the task for a minute, and his breathing began to be heavy.

“Is it hard, grandpa?” she asked sympathetically. “You can do it. You reflect intelligence.” Then in an instant, “Oh, I’ve thought of something.” She whisked about, took the ribbons and tied one tightly around the end of each braid, then ducking her forehead into his shirt front, “Now put your arms around my neck and tie the bow just as if it was on yourself.” Eureka! The thing was accomplished and Mrs. Forbes outwitted. The broker was rather pleased with himself, at the billowy appearance of the ribbon which covered such a multitude of sins in the way of bad parting and braiding. He took his handkerchief and wiped the beads of perspiration from his brow, while Jewel regarded him with admiring affection.

“I knew you could do just /anything/, grandpa!” she said. “You see,” looking off at a mental vision of the housekeeper, “we could come in here every morning for a minute before breakfast, and she’d never know, would she?” The child lifted her shoulders and laughed softly with pleasure at the plot.

Mr. Evringham saw his opportunity to take the floor.

“Now Jewel, I would like to have you explain what you meant by saying that you telegraphed to Chicago to-day, when you didn’t leave your bed.”

She looked up at him attentively. “Ezekiel took it for me,” she replied.

Mr. Evringham unconsciously heaved a sigh of relief at this commonplace information. His knowledge of the claims of Christian Science was extremely vague, and he had feared being obliged to listen to a declaration of the use of some means of communication which would make Marconi’s discoveries appear like clumsy makeshifts.

“But I think, grandpa, perhaps you’d better not tell Mrs. Forbes.”

“How did you manage to see Zeke?”

“I asked his mother if he might come to see me before he took you to the train.”

Mr. Evringham pulled his mustache in amusement. “Did he pay for the telegram?”

“Why no, grandpa. I told you I had plenty of money.”

“And you think that Mrs. Somebody in Chicago cured you?”

“Of course not. God did.”

“But she asked Him, eh?”

Jewel’s innocent eyes looked directly into the quizzical ones. “It’s pretty hard for a little girl to teach you about it if you don’t know,” she said doubtfully.

“I /don’t/ know,” he replied, his mood altered by her tone, “but I should like to know what you think about it. Your cure was a rather surprising one to us all.”

“I can tell you some of the things I know.”

“Do so then.”

“Well”–a pause–“there wasn’t anything to cure, you see.”

“Ah! You weren’t ill then!”

“No–o,” scornfully, “of course not. I knew it all the time, but it seemed so real to me, and so hot, I knew I’d have to have some one else handle the claim for me.”

“It certainly did seem rather real.” Mr. Evringham smiled.

Jewel saw that he did not in the least comprehend.

“You know there isn’t any devil, don’t you, grandpa?” she asked patiently.

“Well, sometimes I have my doubts.”

The little girl tried to discover by his eyes if he were in earnest.

“If you believe there is, then you could believe that I was really sick; but if you believe there isn’t, and that God created everybody and everything, then it is so easy to understand that I wasn’t. Think of God creating anything bad!”

Mr. Evringham nodded vaguely. “When mother comes home she’ll tell you about it, if you want her to.” She sighed a little and abruptly changed the subject. “Grandpa, are you going to be working at your desk?”

“Yes, for a while.”

“Could I sit over at that table and write a letter while you’re busy? I wouldn’t speak.” She slipped down from his knee.

“I don’t know about your having ink. You’re a rather small girl to be writing letters.”

“Oh no, I’ll take a pencil–because sometimes I move quickly and ink tips over.”

“Quite so. I’m glad you realize that, else I should be afraid to have you come to my study.”

“You’d better not be afraid,” the child shook her head sagely, “because that makes things happen.”

Her grandfather regarded her curiously. This small Bible student, who couldn’t tie her own hair ribbons, was an increasing problem to him.

CHAPTER XIV

FAMILY AFFAIRS

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 I ask 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 I did.”

“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.

“I suppose it isn’t all spelled right,” she said. “I didn’t want to disturb you to ask; but will you please direct this to Dr. Ballard?”

“To Dr. Ballard!” repeated Mr. Evringham. His curiosity impelled him. “Shall I see if it is spelled right?”

Jewel assenting, he read the following in a large and waving hand.

DEAR DOCTOR BALUD–Mrs. Forbs felt bad because I did not take your Medsin. She said it was an insult. I want to tell you I did not meen an Insult. We can’t help loving God beter than any body, but I love you and if I took any medsin I would rather take yours than any boddy’s. Mrs. Forbs says you will send a big Bill to Grandpa and that it was error to waist it. Please send the Bill to me because I have Plenty of munny, and I shall love to pay you. You were very kind and did not put any thing on my Tung.

Your loving JEWEL.

Mr. Evringham continued to look at the signature for a minute before he spoke. Jewel was leaning against his arm and reading with him. The last lines slanted deeply, there being barely room in the lower corner for the writer’s name.

“I can’t write very straight without lines,” she said.

“You do very well indeed,” he returned. “About that bill, Jewel,” he added after a moment. “Perhaps you would better let me pay it. I believe you said you had three dollars, but even that won’t last forever, you know. You’ve spent some of it, too. How much, now?”

“I’ve spent fifty cents.” Jewel cast a furtive look around at the chicken, “And, oh yes, fifty cents more for the telegram. How much do you think Dr. Ballard’s bill will be?”

“I think it will take every cent you have left,” returned Mr. Evringham, gravely, curious to hear what his granddaughter would say in this dilemma.

Her reply came promptly and even eagerly. “Well, that’s all right, because Divine Love will send me more if I need it.”

“Indeed? How can you be sure?”

Jewel smiled at him affectionately. “Do you mean it grandpa?”

“Why yes. I really want to know.”

“Even after God sent you Essex Maid?” she asked incredulously.

“You think the mare is the best thing in my possession, eh?”

“Ye–es! Don’t you?”

“I believe I do.” As Mr. Evringham spoke, this kinship of taste induced him to turn his face toward the one beside him. Instantly he found himself kissed full on the lips, and while he was recovering from the shock, Jewel proceeded:–

“God has given you so many things, grandpa, that’s why it surprised me to have you look so sorry when I first came.” The child examined his countenance critically. “I don’t think you look so sorry as you used to. I know you must have lots of error to meet, and perhaps,” lowering her voice to an extra gentleness, “perhaps you don’t know how to remember every minute that God is a very present help in trouble. Mother says that even grown-up people are just finding out about it.”

As she paused Mr. Evringham hesitated, somewhat embarrassed under the blue eyes. “We all have plenty to learn, I dare say,” he returned vaguely.

He had more than once wished that he had taken more notice of Harry’s wife during his opportunity at the hotel. He had looked upon the interview as a distasteful necessity to be disposed of as cursorily as possible.

His son had married beneath him, some working girl probably, whose ability to support herself had turned out to be a deliverance for her father-in-law when the ne’er-do-well husband shirked his responsibilities; and Mr. Evringham had gone to the hotel that evening intending to make it clear that although he performed a favor for his son, there were no results to follow.

His granddaughter’s fearlessness, courtesy, and affection had forced him to wonder as to the mother who had fostered these qualities. He remembered the eloquence of his son’s face when Harry expressed the wish that he might know Julia, and a vague admiration and respect were being born in the broker’s heart for the deserted woman who had worked with hand and brain for her child–his grandchild was the way he put it–with such results as he saw.

Some perception of what Harry’s sensations must have been during the last six months came to him as he sat there with the little girl’s arm about him. Harry had come home and discovered his child, his Jewel. A frown gathered on the broker’s brow as he realized the hours of vain regret his son must have suffered for those lost years of the child’s life.

“Served him right, served him perfectly right!”

“What grandpa?”

The question made Mr. Evringham aware that the indignant words had been muttered above his breath.

“I was thinking of your father,” he replied. “Has he learned these things that your mother has taught you?”

“Oh yes,” with soft eagerness; “father is learning everything.” Jewel saw her grandfather’s frown and she lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “Don’t feel sorry about father, grandpa. He says he’s the happiest man in the world. Mother didn’t find out about God till after father had gone to California, or he wouldn’t have gone; and for a long time she didn’t know where he was, and I was only beginning to walk around, so I couldn’t help her; but when I got bigger I had father’s picture, and we used to talk to it every day, and at last mother knew that Divine Love would bring father back; and pretty soon he began to write to her, and he said he couldn’t come home because he felt so sorry, and he was going to the war. So then mother and I prayed a great deal every day, and we knew father would be taken care of. And then mother kept writing to him not to be sorry, because error was nothing and the child of God could always have his right place, and everything like that, and at last the war was over and he came home.” Jewel paused.

Mr. Evringham wondered what she was seeing with that far-away look.

Presently she turned to him with the smile of irresistible sweetness– Harry’s smile–and a surprising fullness came in the broker’s throat. “Father’s just splendid,” she finished.

Her grandfather was not wholly pleased with the verdict. He had gained a taste for incense himself.

“He has been at home over six months, I believe,” he returned.

“Yes, all winter; and we have more /fun/!”

“Your father is not a Christian Scientist, I presume,” remarked Mr. Evringham.

“Oh yes, he’s learning to be. Of course he goes to church–“

“He does, eh?” put in the broker, surprised.

“Of course; and he studies the lesson with us every day. He had been sorry so much and so long, you know, mother said he was all ready; and beside–beside”–Jewel hesitated and became silent.

“Beside what?”

She began very softly and half reluctantly. “Father had a sickness two or three times when he first came home, and he was healed, and so he was very grateful and wanted to know about God.”

“H’m. I’m glad he was. I hope he will make your mother very happy after this.”

“He does.” The child lost her seriousness and laughed reminiscently. “Father and I have the /best/ times. Mothers says he’s younger than I am.”

“You miss him, eh?” Mr. Evringham half frowned into the fresh little face.

“Oh yes, I do,” with a sigh, “but it would be error to be sorry when I could come to see you, grandpa.”

Mr. Evringham cogitated a minute on the probable loneliness of the last three days, and began to wonder what this philosophy could be which gave practical help to a child of eight years. He was still holding the letter to Dr. Ballard in his hand.

“I think I’ll let you direct this yourself, Jewel,” he said. He rose and brought the morocco cushion to his desk chair. “Sit up here and I will tell you the address.”

She obeyed, and Mr. Evringham watched the little fingers clenched around the pen as she strove to resist its tendency to write down hill on the envelope.

“And you’re quite sure that more money will be forthcoming when yours is gone, eh?” he asked when the feat was accomplished.

“Oh yes; if I need it.”

“How will it come, for instance?”

She looked up quickly. “I don’t need to know that,” she replied.

Mr. Evringham bit his lip. “That’s unanswerable,” he thought, “and rather neat.”

At this moment a knock sounded at the library door, and a moment afterward Mrs. Forbes presented herself.

“Excuse me, Mr. Evringham. I’m afraid Julia has been in your way, staying so long.”

“No, Mrs. Forbes, thank you,” he returned. “She had a letter to write, and I have been reading.”

“Very well. It is her bedtime now.” The housekeeper’s tone was inexorable, and Jewel lifted her shoulders as she glanced up at her grandfather, and again he found himself taken into a confidence which excluded his excellent housekeeper. “It is better for us to yield,” said Jewel’s shoulders and mute lips. Before Mr. Evringham could suspect her intention, she had jumped up on the cushion nimbly as a squirrel, and hugging him in a business-like manner, kissed him twice.

“Good-night, grandpa.”

“Good-night, Jewel,” he returned, going to the length of patting her shoulder.

She jumped down and ran to Mrs. Forbes. “You needn’t come with me, you know,” she said, holding up her face. Mrs. Forbes hesitated a moment. She had not as yet recovered from this latest liberty taken with the head of the house.

“Let me feel of your hands, Julia.” She took them in hers and touched the child’s cheeks and forehead as well. “You seem to feel all right, do you?”

“Yes’m.”

“No soreness or pain anywhere?”

“No’m. Good-night, Mrs. Forbes.”

The housekeeper stooped from her height and accepted the offered kiss.

“Do you prefer to go alone, Jewel? Isn’t it lonely for you?” asked Mr. Evringham.

“No–o, grandpa! Anna Belle is up there.”

“You’re not afraid of the dark then?”

Jewel looked at the speaker, uncertain of his seriousness. He seemed in earnest, however. “The dark is easy to drive away in this house,” she replied. “It is so interesting, just like a treatment. The room seems full of darkness, error, and I just turn the switch,” she illustrated with thumb and finger in the air, “and suddenly–there isn’t any darkness! It’s all bright and happy, just like me to-day!”

“Indeed!” returned Mr. Evringham, standing with his feet apart and his arms folded. “Is that what the lady in Chicago did for you to-day?”

“Yes, grandpa,” Jewel nodded eagerly. She was so glad to have him understand. “She just turned the light, Truth, right into me.”

“She prayed to the Creator to cure you, you mean.”

Jewel looked off. “No, not that,” she answered slowly, searching for words to make her meaning plain. “God doesn’t have to be begged to do anything, because He can’t change, He is always the same, and always perfect, and always giving us everything good, and it’s only for us– not to believe–in the things that seem to get in the way. I was believing there was something in the way, and that lady knew there wasn’t, and she knew it so /well/ that the old dark fever couldn’t stay. Nothing can stay that God doesn’t make–not any longer than we let it cheat us.”

“And she was a thousand miles away,” remarked Mr. Evringham.

“Why, grandpa,” returned Jewel, “there isn’t any space in Spirit.” She gave a little sigh. “I’m real sorry you’re too big to be let into the Christian Science Sunday-School.”

Mrs. Forbes lips fell apart.

“One moment more, Jewel,” said Mr. Evringham. “Mrs. Forbes was telling me of the gentleman who spoke to you on the trolley car yesterday.”

“Oh yes,” returned the child, smiling at the pleasing memory. “The Christian Scientist!”

“What makes you think he is a Christian Scientist?” asked Mr. Evringham.

“I know he was. He had on the pin.” Jewel showed the one she wore, and her grandfather examined the little cross and crown curiously.

“I wonder if it’s possible,” he soliloquized aloud.

“Oh yes, grandpa, he is one, and if he’s a friend of yours he can explain to you so much better than a little girl can.”

After the child had left the room Mr. Evringham and his housekeeper stood regarding one another. His usually unsmiling countenance was relaxed. Mrs. Forbes observed his novel expression, but did not suspect that the light twinkling in his deep-set eyes was partly due to the sight of her own pent-up emotion.

He hooked one thumb in his vest and balanced his eyeglasses in his other hand.

“Well, what do you think of her?” he inquired.

“I think, sir,” returned the housekeeper emphatically, “that if anybody bought that child for a fool he wouldn’t get his money’s worth.”

“Even though she is a Scientist?” added Mr. Evringham, his mustache curving in a smile.

“She’s too smart for me. I don’t like children to be so smart. The idea of her setting up to teach you Mr. Evringham!”

“That shouldn’t be so surprising. I read a long time ago something about certain things being concealed from the wise and prudent and revealed unto babes.”

“Babes!” repeated Mrs. Forbes. “We’ve been the babes. If that young one can lie in bed with a fever, and wind every one of us around her finger the way she’s done to-day, what can we expect when she’s up and around?”

The broker laughed. “She’s an Evringham, an Evringham!” he said.

“You may laugh, sir, but what do you think of her wheedling me into sending Zeke up, and then getting him off on the sly with that telegram? I faced him down with it to-night, and Zeke isn’t any good at fibbing.”

“I’ll be hanged if I don’t think it was a pretty good thing for me,” rejoined Mr. Evringham, “and money in my pocket. It looked as if I was in for Ballard for a matter of weeks.”

“But the–the–the audacity of it!” protested Mrs. Forbes. “What do you think she said after you and Dr. Ballard had done downstairs? I tried to bring her to a sense of what she’d done, and all she answered was that she had known that God would deliver her out of the snare of the fowler. Now I should like to ask you, Mr. Evringham,” added Mrs. Forbes in an access of outraged virtue, “which of us three do you think she called the fowler?”

“Give it up, I’m sure,” returned the broker; “but I can imagine that we seemed three pretty determined giants for one small girl to outwit.”

“She’d outwit a regiment, sir; and I don’t see how you can permit it.”

Mr. Evringham endeavored to compose his countenance. “We must allow her religious liberty, I suppose, Mrs. Forbes. It’s a matter of religion with her–that is, we must allow it as long as she keeps well. If Ballard had found her worse to-night, I assure you I should have consigned all Christian Scientists to the bottom of the sea, and that little zealot would have taken her medicine from my own hand. All’s well that ends well, eh?”

Mrs. Forbes had caught sight of the incongruous adornment of her employer’s desk.

With majestic strides she advanced upon the yellow chicken and swept it into her apron. “Julia must be taught not to litter your room, sir.”

“I beg your pardon,” returned the broker firmly, also advancing and holding out his hand. “That is my chicken.”

Slowly Mrs. Forbes restored the confiscated property, and Mr. Evringham examined it carefully to see that it was intact, and then set it carefully on his desk.

Mrs. Forbes recalled the confectioner’s window. “She must have bought that chicken when my back was turned!” she thought. “That young one could have given points to Napoleon.”

CHAPTER XV

A RAINY MORNING