"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

The next morning it rained so heavily that Mr. Evringham was obliged to forego his ride. Wet weather was an unmixed ill to him. It not only made riding and golf miserable, but it reminded him that rheumatism was getting a grip on one of his shoulders.

"It is disgusting, perfectly disgusting to grow old," he muttered as he descended the broad staircase. On the lower landing Jewel rose up out of the dusk, where she had been sitting near the beautiful clock. Her bright little face shone up at him like a sunbeam.

"You didn't expect to see me, grandpa, did you?" she asked, and as it did not even occur to him to stoop his head to her, she seized his hand and kissed it as they went on down the stairs.

"I was so disappointed because it rained so hard. I was going to see you ride."

"Yes. Beastly weather," assented Mr. Evringham.

"But the flowers and trees want a drink, don't they?"

"'M. I suppose so."

"And the brook will be prettier than ever."

"'M. See that you keep out of it."

"Yes, I will, grandpa; and I thought the first thing this morning, I'll wear my rubbers all day. I was so afraid I might forget I put them right on to make sure."

They had reached the hall, and Jewel exhibited her feet encased in the roomy storm rubbers.

"Great Scott, child!" ejaculated Mr. Evringham, viewing the shiny overshoes. "What size are your feet?"

"I don't know," returned the little girl, "but I only have to scuff some, and then they'll stay on. Mrs. Forbes said I'd grow to them."

"So you will, I should think, if you're going to wear them in the house as well as out." It was against Mr. Evringham's principles to smile before breakfast, at all events at any one except Essex Maid; but the large, shiny overshoes that looked like overgrown beetles, and Jewel's optimistic determination to make him happy, even offset his painful arm.

"The house doesn't leak anywhere," he said. "I think it will be safe for you to take them off until after breakfast."

Jewel lifted her shoulders and looked up at him with the glance he knew.

"Unless we're going out to the stable," she said suggestively.

He hesitated a moment. "Very well," he returned. "Let us go to the stable."

"But first we must tie the ribbons," she said with a joyous chuckle. She would have skipped but for the rubbers. As it was, she proceeded circumspectly to the library, drawing the broker by the hand. "I want you to see, grandpa, if you don't think I made my parting real straight this morning," she said as she softly closed the door.

"Gently on my arm, Jewel," he remonstrated, wincing as she returned, flinging her energetic little body against him. "I have the rheumatism like the devil—pardon me."

She looked at him suddenly, wondering and wistful. "Oh, have you?" she returned sympathetically. "But it is only like the devil, grandpa," she added hopefully, "and you know there isn't any devil."

"I can't discuss theology before breakfast," he returned briefly.

"Dear grandpa, you shan't have a single pain!" She held her head back and looked at him lovingly.

"Very likely not, when I've begun playing the harp. Now where are those con—those ribbons?"

Jewel's eyes and lips grew suddenly serious and doubtful, and he observed the change.

"Yes, your hair ribbons, you know," he added hastily and with an attempt at geniality.

"Not if you don't like to, grandpa."

"I love to," he protested. "I've been looking forward to it all the morning. I thought 'never mind if I can't go riding, I can tie Jewel's hair ribbons.'"

The child laughed a little, even though her companion did not. "Oh grandpa, you're such a joker," she said; "just like father."

But he saw that she doubted his mood, and the toe of one of the overshoes was boring into the carpet as she stood where she had withdrawn from him.

"Let us see if you parted your hair better," he said in a different and gentler tone, and instantly the flaxen head was bent before him, and Jewel felt in her pocket for the ribbons. He had not the heart to say what he thought; namely, that her parting looked as though a saw had been substituted for a comb.

"Very well, very well," he said kindly.

When the ribbons were at last tied, the two proceeded to the dining-room. Here an open fire of logs furnished the cheerful light that was lacking outside. The morning paper hung over the back of a chair, warming before the blaze.

Mrs. Forbes entered from the butler's pantry and looked surprised. "I didn't expect you down for half an hour yet, sir. Shall I hurry breakfast?"

"No; I'm going to take Jewel to the stable." Mr. Evringham stopped and took a few lumps of sugar from the bowl.

"Julia, where are your rubbers?" asked the housekeeper.

"On," said the child, lifting her foot.

"I only hope they'll stay there," remarked her grandfather. "I think, Mrs. Forbes, you must buy shoes as I've heard that Chinamen do,—the largest they can get for the money."

He disappeared with his happy little companion, and the housekeeper looked after them disapprovingly.

"They're both going out bareheaded," she mused. "I'd like to bet—I would bet anything that she asked him to take her. He never even stopped to look at the paper. He's just putty in her hands, that's what he is, putty; and she's been here three days."

Mr. Evringham's apprehensions proved to have foundation. Halfway to the barn Jewel stepped in a bit of sticky mud and left one rubber. Her companion did not stop to let her get it, but picking her up under his well arm, strode on to the barn, where they appeared to the astonished Zeke.

Jewel was laughing in high glee. She was used to being caught up in a strong arm and run with.

Mr. Evringham shook the drops from his head. "Get Jewel's rubber please, Zeke," he said, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder.

"I was Cinderella," cried the child gayly. "That's my glass slipper out there in the mud."

Zeke would have liked to joke with her, but that was an impossibility in the august presence. He cast a curious glance at the little girl as he left the barn. He had received his mother's version of yesterday's experience. "Well, it looks to me as if there was something those Christian Science folks know that the rest of us don't," he soliloquized. "I saw her with my own eyes, and felt her with my own hands. Mother says children get up from anything twice as quick as grown folks, but I don't know."

"Don't you love a stable, grandpa?" exclaimed Jewel. "Oh, I'm too happy to scuff," and she kicked off the other rubber. Even while she spoke Essex Maid looked around and whinnied at sight of her master.

"She knows you, she knows you," cried the little girl joyously, hopping up and down.

"Of course," said Mr. Evringham, holding out his hand to the delighted child and leading her into the stall. The mare rubbed her nose against him. "We couldn't get out this morning, eh, girl?" said the broker, caressing her neck, while Jewel smoothed the bright coat as high as she could reach. Her grandfather lifted her in his arms. "Here, my maid, here's a new friend for you. In my pocket, Jewel."

The child took out the lumps of sugar one by one, and Essex Maid ate them from the little hand, touching it gently with her velvet lips. Zeke came in and whistled softly as he glanced at the group in the stall.

"Whew," he mused. "He's letting her feed the Maid. I guess she can put her shoes in his trunk all right."

Mr. Evringham set Jewel on the mare's back and she smoothed the bright mane and patted the beautiful creature.

"I'd like to gallop off now over the whole country," she said, her face glowing.

"I shouldn't be surprised either if you could do it bareback," returned Mr. Evringham; "but you must never come into either of the stalls without me. You understand, do you?"

"Yes, grandpa. I'm glad you told me though, because I guess I should have." The child gave a quick, unconscious sigh.

"Well we'd better go in now."

"How kind you are to me," said the child gratefully, as she slid off the horse's back with her arms around her grandfather's neck.

He had forgotten his rheumatic shoulder for the time.

"You can bring those rubbers in later," he said to Zeke, and so carried Jewel out of the barn, through the rain, and into the house.

Mrs. Forbes watched the entrance. "Breakfast is served, sir," she said with dignity. She thought her employer should have worn a hat.

Jewel was not offered eggs this morning. Instead she had, after her fruit and oatmeal, a slice of ham and a baked potato.

Her roses were fresh this morning and opening in the warmth of the fire, but Mr. Evringham's eyes were caught by a mass of American Beauties which stood in an alcove close to the window.

"Where did those come from?" he demanded.

"They belong to Miss Eloise," replied Mrs. Forbes. "She asked me to take care of them for her."

"Humph! Ballard again, I suppose," remarked the broker.

"I hope so," responded Mrs. Forbes devoutly.

Mr. Evringham had spoken to himself, and he glanced up from his paper, surprised by the prompt fervor of the reply. The housekeeper looked non-committal, but her meaning dawned upon him, and he smiled slightly as he returned to the news of the day.

"Dr. Ballard must love Cousin Eloise very much," said Jewel, mashing her potato. "He sent her a splendid box of candy, too."

She addressed her remark to Mrs. Forbes, and in a low tone, in order not to disturb her grandfather's reading.

"Any girl can get candy and flowers and love, if she's only pretty enough," returned Mrs. Forbes; "but she mustn't forget to be pretty."

The speaker's tone appealed to Jewel as signifying a grievance. She looked up.

"Why, somebody married you, Mrs. Forbes," she said kindly.

Mr. Evringham's paper hid a face which suddenly contorted, but the housekeeper's quick-glancing eyes could not see a telltale motion.

She gave a hard little laugh. "You think there's hope for you then, do you?" she returned.

"I guess I'm not going to be married," replied Jewel. "Father says I'm going to be his bachelor maid when I grow up."

"Shouldn't wonder if you were," said Mrs. Forbes dryly.

The owner of the American Beauties and the beribboned bonbon box was taking her coffee as usual in bed. This luxurious habit had never been hers until she came to Bel-Air; but it was her mother's custom, and rather than undergo a tete-a-tete breakfast with her host, she had adopted it.

Now she had made her toilet deliberately. There was nothing to hurry for. Her mother's voice came in detached sentences and questions from the next room.

"Dear me, this rain is too trying, Eloise! Didn't you have some engagement with Dr. Ballard to-day?"

"He thought he could get off for some golf this afternoon."

"What a disappointment for the dear fellow," feelingly. "He has so little time to himself!"

Eloise gave a most unsympathetic laugh. "More than he wishes he had, I fancy," she returned.

She came finally in her white negligee into her mother's room. Mrs. Evringham was still in bed. Her eyeglasses were on and she regarded her daughter critically as she came in sight. She had begun to look upon her as mistress of the fine old Ballard place on Mountain Avenue, and the setting was very much to her mind. The girl sauntered over to the window, and taking a low seat, leaned her head against the woodwork, embowered in the lace curtains.

"How it does come down!" said Mrs. Evringham fretfully. "And I lack just a little of that lace braid, or I could finish your yoke. I suppose Forbes would think it was a dreadful thing if I asked her to let Zeke get it for me."

"Don't ask anything," returned Eloise.

"When you are in your own home!" sighed Mrs. Evringham.

"Don't, mother. It's indecent!"

"If you would only reassure me, my child, so I wouldn't have to undergo such moments of anxiety as I do."

"Oh, you have no mercy!" exclaimed the girl; and when she used that tone her mother usually became tearful. She did now.

"You act as if you weren't a perfect treasure, Eloise—as if I didn't consider you a treasure for a prince of the realm!"

A knock at the door heralded Sarah's arrival for the tray, and Mrs. Evringham hastily wiped her eyes.

"Yes, you can take the things," she said as the maid approached. "I can't tip you as I should, Sarah. I'm going to get you something pretty the next time I go to New York."

Sarah had heard this before.

"And if you know of any one going to the village this morning, I want a piece of lace braid. Have you heard how Miss Julia is?"

"She was down at breakfast, ma'am, and Mr. Evringham had her out to the stable to see Essex Maid."

"He did? In the rain? How very imprudent!"

After Sarah had departed with her burden, Mrs. Evringham took off her eyeglasses.

"There, Eloise, you heard that? It's just as I thought. He is taking a fancy to her."

The girl smiled without turning her head. "Oh no, that wasn't your prophecy, mother. You said she was too plain to have a chance with our fastidious host."

"Well, didn't she look forlorn last night at the dinner table?" demanded Mrs. Evringham, a challenge in her voice.

"Indeed she did, the poor baby. She looked exactly as if she had two female relatives in the house, neither of whom would lift a finger to help her, even though she was just off a sick bed. The same relatives don't know this minute how or where she spent the evening."

"I felt very glad she was content somewhere away from the drawing-room," returned Mrs. Evringham practically. "You know we expected Dr. Ballard up to the moment the roses arrived, and from all I gathered at the dinner table, it would have been awkward enough for him to walk in upon that child. Besides, I don't see why you use that tone with me. It has been your own choice to let her paddle her own canoe, and you've had an object lesson now that I hope you won't forget. You wouldn't believe me when I begged you to exert yourself for your grandfather, and now you see even that plain little thing could get on with him just because she dared take him by storm. She has about everything in her disfavor. The child of a common working woman, with no beauty, and a little crank of a Christian Scientist into the bargain, and yet now see! He took her out to the stable to see Essex Maid! I never knew you contradictory and disagreeable until lately, Eloise. You even act like a stick with Dr. Ballard just to be perverse." Mrs. Evringham flounced over in bed, with her back to the white negligee.

Eloise had seen what she had been watching for. Her grandfather had driven away to the station, so she arose and came over to the foot of the bed.

"I know I'm irritable, mother," she said repentantly. "The idleness and uselessness of my life have grated on me until I know I'm not fit to live with. If I had had any of the training of a society girl, I could bear it better; but papa kept my head full of school,—for which I bless him,—and now that the dream of college is hopeless, and that the only profession you wish for me is marriage, I dread to wake up in the mornings."

The young voice was unsteady.

Mrs. Evringham heaved a long sigh. "Give me patience!" she murmured, then added mentally, "It can't be many days, and she won't refuse him."

"Go down to the piano and play yourself good-natured," she returned. "Then come up and we'll go on with that charming story. It quite refreshed me to read of that coming-out ball. It was so like my own."

Eloise, her lips set in a sad curve, rose and left the room. Once in the hall, she paused for a minute. Then instead of descending the stairs, she ran noiselessly up the next flight. The rain was pelting steadily on the dome of golden glass through which light fell to the halls. She stole, as she had done yesterday, to the door of Jewel's room.

Again as yesterday she heard a voice, but this time it was singing. The tones were very sweet, surprisingly strong and firm to proceed from lips which always spoke so gently. The door was not quite closed, and Eloise pressed her ear to the crack. Thus she could easily hear the words of Jewel's song:—

"And o'er the earth's troubled, angry sea I see Christ walk; And come to me, and tenderly, Divinely, talk."

The hymn stopped for a minute, and the child appeared to be conversing with some one.

Eloise waited, openly, eagerly listening, hoping the singer would resume. Something in those unexpected words in the sweet child voice stirred her. Presently Jewel sang on:—

"From tired joy, and grief afar, And nearer Thee, Father, where Thine own children are I love to be!"

The lump that rose in the listener's throat forced a moisture into her eyes.

"I never could hear a child sing without crying," she said to herself in excuse, as she leaned her forehead on her hand against the jamb of the door and waited for the strange stir at her heart to quiet.

The house was still. The rain swept against the panes, and tears stole from under the girl's long lashes—tears for her empty, vapid life, for the hopelessness of the future, for the humiliations of the present, for the lack of a love that should be without self-interest.

"I like that verse, Anna Belle," said the voice within. "Let's sing that again," and the hymn welled forth:—

"From tired joy, and grief afar, And nearer Thee, Father, where Thine own children are I love to be!"

"Is there a haven?" thought the swelling, listening heart outside. "Is there a place far alike from tired joy and grief?"

"'Father, where Thine own children are,'" quoted Jewel. "We know where a lot of them are, don't we, Anna Belle, and we do love to be with them." A pause, and a light sigh, which did not reach the listener. "But we're at grandpa's now," finished the child's voice.

Eloise's breaths came long and deep drawn, and she stood motionless, her eyes hidden.



CHAPTER XVI

THE FIRST LESSON

Jewel looked up as she heard a knock. Sarah had made the bed and gone. Who could this be?

At her "Come in," Eloise entered the room. The child's face brightened questioningly. She rose and gazed at the enchanted maiden, very lovely in the wrapper of white silk, open at the throat, and with little billows of lace cascading down to the toes of her white Turkish slippers.

"Good-morning, cousin Eloise," said the child, waiting for the message or order which she supposed to be forthcoming.

"Good-morning." The girl cast a comprehensive glance around the rather bare room. Her eyes bore no traces of the tears so recently shed, but her face was sad. "I heard you singing," she said.

"Yes. Did I disturb anybody?" asked the child quickly.

"No. It is nice to be like the birds that sing in the rain."

"Like the robin out there," returned Jewel, relieved. "Did you hear him?" She ran to the window and threw it open, listening a minute. "No, he has gone."

"You said you would show me your doll," went on Eloise when the window was closed again.

"Oh," returned Jewel pleased, "did you come to see Anna Belle? She's right here. We were just going to have the lesson." She took the doll from the depths of a big chair and held her up with motherly pride. "Would you—won't you sit down a minute?"

To her great satisfaction, her beautiful visitor condescended to take the chair Anna Belle had vacated, and held out her white, ringless hands for the doll.

"How neatly her clothes are made," said the girl, examining Anna Belle's garments.

"Yes, my mother made her all new ones when she knew she was going to Europe, so that she would be neat and not mortify me. Would you like to see her clothes?" eagerly.

"Yes, I should."

Jewel brought them, her quick little fingers turning them back and forth, exhibiting the tiny buttonholes and buttons, and chattering explanations of their good points.

"It was a great deal for your mother to do all this, when she is such a busy woman," said Eloise.

"Yes, she did it evenings, and then surprised me just when we were coming away. Wasn't it lovely?"

"Very."

"I love prettiness," said the child. As she spoke she regarded the grave face beside her. "When I first noticed that my nose wasn't nice, and neither were my eyes, I almost cried."

Eloise looked up at her, at a loss for a reply.

"But then I remembered that of course God never made anything that wasn't perfectly beautiful, so I knew that it would come right some time, and I asked mother when she thought it would."

"What did she say?" returned Eloise, wondering at this original optimism.

"She said we could never tell how soon anything would come right to our sense, but so long as we knew that Creation was perfect and beautiful, we could be patient about everything—big things and little things; and then I remember how she talked to me about being careful never to pity myself." Jewel gave her head a little serious shake. "You know it's very bad error to pity yourself, no matter what kind of a nose you have."

Eloise had sunk back in the large chair and was attentively watching the child standing beside her, while she still held Anna Belle. She had never before held converse with a Christian Scientist, but her state of mind precluded the perception of a humorous side to anything.

"Wrong to pity yourself no matter what happens?" she asked.

"Yes—because—because—" Jewel looked off. She knew that it was error, but it was hard to explain why to the lovely grown-up cousin who was so strangely sorry. "Well, you see," she added after the moment's thought, "it isn't having faith in God, it isn't knowing that you're His child, and that He takes care of you."

"No, I suppose not; but I have never learned how to know that, Jewel."

"I know you haven't," returned the little girl, and she slipped her hand toward her cousin's. The girl met it halfway and held it close. "Since I've seen you," Jewel went on slowly, "I know that prettiness isn't enough to make a person happy—nor all your lovely clothes—nor having people fond of you and sending you presents—nor making the sweetest music; but you can be happy, cousin Eloise, unless you're doing wrong."

"I am doing wrong, but I can't help it." The girl took her supporting hand from the doll and pressed it to her eyes a second before dropping it. "What were you doing when I came in?"

"I was just going to get the lesson."

"Oh, do you go on with your studies? Perhaps I can help you better than Anna Belle."

"Would you cousin Eloise?" Jewel flushed with pleasure. "Some of the words are so long. I thought I'd ask grandpa to-night."

"Why didn't you wish to come to me?" questioned Eloise, well knowing why.

The little girl looked a trifle embarrassed. "I didn't want to trouble you. Of course you aren't my real relations," she said modestly.

"Do you remember that, too!" exclaimed Eloise.

Jewel started at the hurt voice. "Would you like to be?" she asked earnestly. "I wish you were, because"—she hesitated and smiled with her head a little on the side, "because I might look more like you."

The gravity of Eloise's lips remained unbroken. "I want you to promise me something, Jewel. I want you to promise not to tell your grandfather that I have been with you to-day."

"Why? He'd be glad I was happy."

"I have a reason. I will help you with your studies every day if you won't tell him."

"I might without meaning to," rejoined the child, her alert little mind busy with the new problem suddenly presented to it.

"I will make a rainbow scarf for Anna Belle if you will never speak of me to your grandfather."

"Why do you say my grandfather? He's yours, too."

"Not at all. Didn't you just say I was not your real relation?"

"Oh but, cousin Eloise," Jewel was sure of the hurt now, though the why or wherefore was a mystery, "of course he wishes you were."

"Oh no he doesn't." The answer came quick and sharp, and the child reviewed mentally her own observations of the household. Her heart swelled with the desire to help.

"Now, cousin Eloise," her breath came a little faster with the thronging thoughts for which her vocabulary was insufficient, "error does try to cheat people so. Just think how kind you were inside all the time, though you wouldn't smile at me. You're willing to make Anna Belle a scarf. I called you the enchanted maiden, because you were too sorry to try to make people happy, and now grandpa's just like that; he's enchanted, too, if he doesn't make you happy, because he's just as kind inside, oh, just as kind as he can be."