"He likes you," returned Eloise.

Jewel regarded her for a silent moment. "I noticed when I came," she said at last, apologetically, "that nobody here seemed to love one another; and the house was so grand and the people were so beautiful that I couldn't understand; and I called it Castle Discord."

Eloise gave a little exclamation. "I call it the icebox," she returned.

Jewel's face lighted. "That's it, that's all it is," she said eagerly. "It's easy to melt ice. Love melts everything."

"It's pretty slow work sometimes," said Eloise.

"Then you have to put on more love. That's all. Have you"—the child asked the question a little timidly, "have you put on much love to grandpa?"

"Why should I love him?" asked Eloise. "He doesn't love me."

"Oh dear," said Jewel. After a minute's thought her face brightened. "I guess I'll show you my dotted letter."

She ran to the closet where hung her dotted challie dress and took from the pocket the message that had come to her the evening of her arrival. "My mother put a letter into all my pockets for a happy surprise; and this one came the first night, when I was feeling all sorry and alone, and it comforted me. Perhaps it will comfort you."

She put the paper into the girl's hand, and Eloise read it. She turned it over and read it a second time.

Jewel stood beside her chair watching, and seeing that her cousin seemed interested, she ran and brought her little wrapper. "Perhaps you'd like to see this one too," she said feeling in the pocket for the second message.

Eloise accepted and read it. Every word of the two notes came to the mind of the young girl as suggestions from another planet, so foreign were they to any instruction or advice that had ever fallen to her lot.

She gave a slight exclamation as she finished. "Is your mother a saint?" she asked, looking up suddenly.

"No," returned Jewel innocently. "She's a Christian Scientist."

Eloise suddenly put out her hand, and drawing Jewel to her, hid her forehead on the child's breast.

"I wish you were older," she said.

Jewel put her little hands on the shining waves of hair she had admired from afar. "I wish my mother was here," she answered. "Did you like those things mother said?"

"Oh yes; but they're from heaven, and I'm in the other place," replied Eloise disconsolately.

"Then let's look in another pocket!" exclaimed Jewel. "I'll look in my best dress. Perhaps she'd put the best one there."

The girl lifted her head, and the child went eagerly to the closet, coming back with a folded paper. "We'll read it together. You read it out loud, and I'll look over your shoulder."

The rain slanted against the window in gusts as the two heads bent above the paper. Eloise read:—

"Mother is thinking of you, little daughter, every day and every night, and the thing she hopes the most is, that you never let the day go by without studying the lesson. The words may be hard sometimes, but perhaps some one will read it with you, and if they do not, then you go on trying your best, and you will learn more and more all the time; for truth will shine into your thought and help you. Grandpa will give you plenty of bread and butter, but you must remember that Spirit, not matter, satisfieth. You would starve without the Bible and the text-book, and very soon the joy would go out of everything. Give my love to Anna Belle, and tell her not to go out to play any day until you have read the lesson."

"Your mother speaks as if you learned Christian Science out of the Bible," said Eloise.

"Of course," returned Jewel.

"I thought a woman got it up," said the girl. "I thought your church worshipped her."

The child smiled at the phrase. "You know Christ was the first one. That's why we call ourselves that. We couldn't be Christian Scientists if we worshipped any one but God," she answered. "Of course we love Mrs. Eddy. Just think how good and unselfish a person has to be before they can hear God's teaching. He showed her how to remind people of the things that Christ taught, and how to get rid of their sins and sickness. We love her dearly for helping people so much, and shouldn't you think everybody would? But they don't. Some people think hating thoughts about her, just as if she was teaching bad things instead of good ones. Mother says it reminds her of what the Saviour said, 'For which of these works do ye stone me?'"

"Ah, but you see," returned Eloise, "Christian Scientists let people die sometimes without a doctor."

"But lots of people they do cure are the ones doctors said would have to die."

"I know they claim that."

"And such a lot of people pass on while doctors are taking care of them I wonder why it makes everybody so angry when a Scientist goes without any."

Eloise smiled faintly as she shook her head. "It is more respectable to die with a doctor at your side," she returned.

"Are you really willing to help me with the lesson, cousin Eloise? If you are, it would be nice if you would get your Bible too."

The girl looked embarrassed. "I haven't any."

"Well, your mother's would do just as well," said Jewel politely.

"She hasn't any—here, I'm sure."

The little girl stood very still a moment. "No wonder they're sorry," she thought.

"All right. We can both look over one," she answered, and going to the dresser she brought her books.

"Was this the study you meant?" asked Eloise, looking at the three books curiously. "I thought I was offering to help you with something I knew about. I used to learn verses out of the Bible when I was a little girl in Sunday-school. I don't know anything about it now."

"But you can read everything, the big words and all," replied Jewel. "I wish I could."

Eloise saw that this reply was designed to minister to her self-respect. She took up the small black book lying with the Bible. "What is this?"

"That is 'Science and Health,' that Mrs. Eddy wrote to explain to us what the Bible means; and this other one is to tell us where to pick out the places for the day's lesson." Jewel pulled up a chair, and seating herself, turned over the leaves of the Quarterly briskly until she found the right date.

"Please find Zechariah, cousin Eloise."

"What's that?" asked the girl helplessly.

"It's in the Old Testament. Would you rather I'd find them? All right, then you can take 'Science and Health' and find that part."

"I hope it's easy, for I'm awfully stupid, Jewel."

"Oh, it's very easy. You'll see." The child found the chapter and verse in the Bible and read, with her finger on the line. Eloise looked over and read with her. Thus they went through all the verses for the day, then Jewel began to give the page and line to be read in the text-book.

This volume was small and agreeable to handle, the India paper pleasant to the girl's dainty touch. According to the child's request, she read aloud the lines which were called for.

"That's all," said Jewel at last. "Oh cousin Eloise, it's just lovely and easy to get the lesson with you," she added gratefully.

Eloise made no response. Her eye had been caught by a statement on the page before her, and she read on in silence.

Jewel waited a minute and then, seeing that her cousin was absorbed, she laid down the Quarterly and took up her doll and sat still, watching the pretty profile, undisturbed by doubts as to what her cousin might think of the book she held, and full of utter confidence that He who healeth all our diseases would minister to her through its pages.

At last Eloise again became conscious of her surroundings. She turned to her companion, a skeptical comment on her lips, but she suppressed the words at sight of the innocent, expectant face. She certainly had nothing to give this child better than what she already possessed.

"You can read it any time when you feel sorry, cousin Eloise, that and my Bible too. Mother always does."

"Does she ever feel sorry?"

"Sometimes; but it can't last where the Bible is."

"I never saw that the Bible had anything to do with us," said Eloise.

"Why—ee!" Jewel suddenly dropped Anna Belle and again took up the Bible.

"What do you think I opened to?" holding the verse with her finger as she looked up. Then she read, "'If ye love them that love you what thank have ye?' Now isn't that something to do with you and grandpa?"

"I don't see how I can love people who don't choose to be lovable," returned Eloise. "What's the use of pretending?"

"But then," said the child, "the trouble is that everything that isn't love is hate."

Her visitor raised her eyebrows. "Ah! I should have to think about that," she returned.

"Yes, you'd better," agreed Jewel. Then she turned to the Psalms and read the ninety-first.

When she had finished she looked up at her cousin, an earnest questioning in her eyes.

"That is very beautiful," said Eloise. "I never heard it before. How well you read it, Jewel."

"Yes," replied the child. "It's so much easier to read things when you know them by heart." Then she turned to the Twenty-third Psalm and read it.

"Yes, I've heard that one. It's beautiful of course, but I never thought of its having anything to do with us." Eloise was watching her cousin curiously. It seemed too strange for belief that a healthy child of her age should be taking a vital interest in the Bible and endeavoring to prove a position from its pages.

When the girl finally rose to go she turned at the door:—

"Remember your promise not to tell grandfather about this morning," she said.

Jewel, hovering about her, looked troubled.

"Would you just as lief tell me why?" she asked.

Eloise gave the ghost of a smile. "It would be a long story, and I scarcely think you would understand."

"I think I could obey you better if you would tell me."

"Very well. We, my mother and I, are not Mr. Evringham's real relations,—to put it as you do,—and we have come here because my poor father lost his money and we have nowhere else to go. We came without being invited, and it hurts to have to stay where we are not wanted. I don't wish grandfather to think that I am being kind to you, for fear he will believe that I am doing it to make him like me better and because I want to stay here."

The girl spoke slowly and with great clearness.

Jewel looked at her, speechless with surprise and perplexity.

Eloise went on: "I don't want to stay here, you understand. I wish to go away. I would go to-day if my mother were willing."

Her large eyes grew dark as she closed, and the child received a sense of the turbulence that underlay her words.

"Thank you for explaining," she returned in an awed tone. "I wish my mother was here; but God is, and He'll take care of you, cousin Eloise. Mother says we don't ever need to stay in the shadow. There's always the sunshine, only we must do our part, we must come into it."

"How Jewel? Supposing you don't know how."

"You can learn how," replied the child earnestly, "right in those books. Lots of sorry people grow glad studying them."



CHAPTER XVII

JEWEL'S CORRESPONDENCE

While Jewel still stood turning over in her mind what she had heard, charming strains of music began coming up through the hall. Cousin Eloise had gone to the piano.

"I almost which I hadn't made her tell me," thought the child, "for how can I help grandpa not to be sorry they are here? Wouldn't I be sorry to have aunt Madge come and live with me when I never asked her to?" She stood for some minutes wrestling with the problem, but suddenly her expression changed. "I was forgetting!" she exclaimed. "I mustn't get sorry too. God is All. Mortal mind can't do anything about it." She closed her eyes, and pressing her hand to her lips, stood for a minute in mute realization; then with a smile of relief, she took up Anna Belle.

"Let's go down, dearie, and hear the music," she said light heartedly.

When the summons to luncheon sounded and Mrs. Evringham entered the parlor, she found the child curled up in a big chair, her doll in her lap, listening absorbedly to the last strains of a Chopin Ballade.

"Do you like music, Julia?" she asked patronizingly, as her daughter finished and turned about.

"The child's name is Jewel," said Eloise.

"Yes, aunt Madge, I love it," replied the little girl; "and I didn't know people could play the piano the way cousin Eloise does."

Mrs. Evringham smiled. "I suppose you've not heard much good music."

"Yes'm, I've heard our organist in church."

"And Jewel can make good music herself," said Eloise. "She can sing like a little lark. I've been up in her room this morning."

Mrs. Evringham welcomed the look on her daughter's face as she made the statement. "Thank fortune Eloise has played herself into good humor," she thought.

"Indeed? I must hear her sing some time. You're playing unusually well this morning, my dear. I wish Dr. Ballard could have heard you. Come to luncheon."

The three repaired to the dining-room, where Mrs. Forbes's glance immediately noted the presence of Anna Belle. She took her from Jewel's arms and placed her on a remote corner of the sideboard, in the middle of which glowed the American Beauty roses.

Mrs. Evringham approached them with solicitude.

"They're looking finely, Mrs. Forbes," she said suavely. "You surely understand the care of roses." She lifted the silver scissors that hung from her chatelaine and succeeded in severing one of the long stems.

"Here, little girl," she added, advancing to Eloise, "you need this in your white gown to cheer us up this rainy day."

The girl shrank and opened her lips to decline, but restrained herself and submitted to have the flower pinned amid her laces.

Jewel gazed at her in open admiration. The glowing color lent a wonderful touch to the girl's beauty. Mrs. Evringham laughed low at the fascinated look in the plain little face, and luncheon began.

To Jewel it differed much from the ones that had preceded it. Mrs. Forbes might hover like a large black cloud, aunt Madge might rail at the weather which cut her off from her afternoon drive, but the morning's experience seemed to have put the child into new relations with all, and Eloise often gave her a friendly glance or smile as the meal progressed.

It was destined to a surprising interruption. In the midst of the discussion of lamb chops and Saratoga chips the door opened, and in walked Dr. Ballard. The shoulders of his becoming raincoat were spangled with drops, his hat was in his hand, a deprecatory smile brightened his face.

"Forgive me, won't you?" he said as he advanced to Mrs. Evringham and clasped the outstretched hand which eagerly welcomed him. "It was my one leisure half hour to-day."

He brought the freshness of the spring air with him, and he went on around the table shaking hands with the others, and finally drew up a chair beside Jewel.

"No, I can't eat anything," he declared in response to the urging of Mrs. Evringham and the housekeeper. "Can't stay long enough for that."

His eyes fastened on the graceful girl opposite him, who was trying to offset her blushes by a direct and nonchalant gaze. The rose on her breast seemed to be scorching her cheeks. She knew that her mother was exulting in the lucky inspiration which had made her set it there.

"How good of you to come and cheer us!" exclaimed Mrs. Evringham. "Do take off your coat and stay for a cosy hour. We will have some music."

"Don't tempt me. I have an office hour awaiting me. I came principally to see this little girl."

Jewel had leaned back in her chair and was watching his bright face expectantly.

"I'm glad of it," rejoined Mrs. Evringham devoutly. "I distrust these sudden recoveries, Dr. Ballard. Do make very sure that she hasn't one of those lingering, treacherous fevers. I've heard of such things."

Dr. Ballard's eyes laughed into those of his little neighbor. "She doesn't look the part," he returned.

Jewel gave a glance around the table. "Will you excuse me?" she said politely, then she reached up to the doctor's ear.

"Shall I go and get my money?" she whispered.

He shook his head. "No," he replied in a low tone. "I came to thank you very much for your note, and to tell you that you don't owe me anything. I'm not usually a 'no cure, no pay' doctor. I take the money anyway, but this time I'm going to make an exception."

"Why?" asked Jewel, speaking aloud as long as he did.

"Well, you see, you didn't take the medicine. That makes a difference. Most people take it."

"Ye—es," rejoined Jewel rather doubtfully. She was not sure of this logic.

"So now we're perfectly square," went on the doctor, "but don't you fall ill again." He shook his head at her. "I want us to remain friends."

"We'd always be friends, wouldn't we?" returned Jewel, smiling into his laughing eyes.

"When is our golf coming off, Miss Eloise?" he asked, looking across the table again.

"When the weather permits," she responded graciously.

"I guess that's going to be all right," commented Mrs. Forbes mentally. "She's as pretty as a painting with that rose on, and her mother looks as contented as a cat with her paw on a mouse. She don't mean to play with that mouse, either. She won't run any risks. She'll take it right in. You're pretty near done for, my young feller, and your eyes look willing, I must say."

The spring rain proved to be a protracted storm. Mr. Evringham made his hours long in the city. Eloise came up to Jewel's room each morning and read the lesson with her, always reading on to herself after it was finished. She made the child tell her of the circumstances of her recent illness and cure, and listened to Jewel's affectionate comments on Dr. Ballard's kindness with an inscrutable expression which did not satisfy the child.

"You love him, don't you?" asked the little girl.

Eloise gave a slight smile. "If everything that isn't love is hate, I suppose I ought to," she returned.

"Yes, indeed," agreed Jewel; "and he has been so kind to you I don't see how you can help it."

The girl sighed. "Don't grow up, Jewel," she said. "It makes lots of trouble."

On the second one of her visits to the child's room she put her hand on the flaxen head. "I'd like to fix your hair," she said. "Mrs. Forbes doesn't part it nicely."

"I do it myself," returned Jewel; "but I'd be glad to have you."

So Eloise washed the thick flaxen locks and dried them. Then she parted and brushed the hair, and when it was finally tied, Jewel regarded the reflection of her smooth head with satisfaction.

"It looks just the way mother makes it," she said. "I'm going to write to mother and father to-night, and I'm going to tell them how kind you are to me."

That evening, in Mr. Evringham's library, Jewel wrote the letter.

Her grandfather, after making some extremely uncomplimentary comments upon the weather, had lowered his green-shaded electric light and established himself beneath it with his book.

He looked across at the child, who was situated as before at the table, her crossed feet, in their spring-heeled shoes, dangling beneath.

"May I smoke, Jewel?" he asked, as he took a cigar from the case. He asked the question humorously, but the reply was serious.

"Oh yes, grandpa, of course; this is your room; but you know nobody likes tobacco naturally except a worm."

Mr. Evringham's deep-set eyes widened. "Is it possible? Well, we're all worms."

Jewel smiled fondly at him, her head a little on one side, in its characteristic attitude.

"You're such a joker," she returned.

"If you really dislike smoke," said the broker after a minute, "perhaps you'd better take your letter up to your room."

"I don't mind it," she returned. "Father used to smoke. It's only a little while since it gave him up."

"You mean since he gave it up."

"No. When people study Christian Science, the error habits that they have just go away."

"Indeed? I'm glad you warned me." Mr. Evringham blew a delicate ring of smoke toward the table, but Jewel had begun to think of her parents, and her pencil was moving. Her grandfather noted the trim appearance of the bowed head.

"I don't know but I was cut out for a man milliner after all," he mused complacently. "Those bows have really a very chic appearance."

His book interested him, and he soon became absorbed in its pages. Jewel occasionally coming to an orthographic problem looked up and waited, but he did not observe her, so she patiently kept silence and resumed her work. At last the letter was finished.

She looked again at her grandfather, and opened her cramped little hand with relief. The back of her neck was tired with her bending posture. She leaned back in the heavy chair to rest it while she waited. The eyelids, grown heavy with her labors, wavered and winked. The rain dripped down the panes, as if it had fallen into a monotonous habit. The sound was soothing. Jewel fell asleep.

When finally Mr. Evringham glanced at her he smiled. "Little thoroughbred," he mused; "she'd never disturb me." He rose and crossed to the child. There lay the finished letter. He took it up with some anticipation:—

DEAR MOTHER AND FATHER——It is most time to get a leter from you but I will not wait to tell you I am happy and well.

Grandpa is the kindest man and he has the most Beautiful horse, her name is Essecks made. He let me sit on her back and give her Sugar. Cosin Elloees is the prettiest one of all. She has things that make her sorry but she is very kind to me. She washed my hare today and she helps me get the lesson. There is a docter here he is lovly. He tried to cure me when I had a claim but Mrs. Lewis did. Cosin Elloees reads S. and H when we get throo the lesson and I think she will be glad Pretty soon and not afrade Grandpa doesn't want her and Ant maj. She won't let me tell grandpa she is kind to me, but I can Explane beter when you come home.

Grandpa's kindness is inside, and he Looks sorry but noboddy cood help loving him. I love you both every minnit and the leters in my pocket help me so much.

Your dear

JEWEL.

Mr. Evringham had scarcely finished reading this epistle when Jewel's head slipped on the polished woodwork against which she was leaning and bumped against the side of the chair with a jar which awoke her.

Seeing her grandfather standing near she smiled drowsily. "I fell asleep, didn't I?" she said, and rubbed her eyes; then noting the sheet of paper in Mr. Evringham's hand, memory returned to her. She sat up with a start.

"Oh, grandpa, you haven't read my letter!" she exclaimed, with an accent of dismay which brought the blood to the broker's face. He felt a culprit before the shocked blue eyes.

"To—to see if it was spelled right, you know," he said. "You had me do it before."

"Yes, I wanted you to then," returned the child; "but it is error to read people's letters unless they ask you to, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's confoundedly bad form, Jewel. I beg your pardon. You didn't mean me to see those sweet things you said about me, eh?"

"That was no matter. It was cousin Eloise's secret. She trusted me." The child's eyes filled with tears.

The broker cleared his throat. "No harm done, I'm sure. No harm done," he returned brusquely, to cover his discomfiture. For the first time he made an advance toward his granddaughter. "Come here a minute, Jewel." He took her hand and led her to his chair, and seating himself, lifted her into his lap. The corners of her lips were drawing down involuntarily, and as her head fell against his broad shoulder, he took out his handkerchief and dried her eyes. "I hope you'll forgive me," he said. "After this I will always wait for your permission. Now what is this about cousin Eloise?"

Jewel shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

"You can't tell me?"

"No."

"Then don't you think perhaps it was a good thing I read your letter after all, if it is something I ought to know?"

The speaker was not so interested to discover the secrets of his beautiful guest as to set himself right with this admirer. He did not relish falling from his pedestal.

"Do you think perhaps Divine Love made you do it, grandpa?" asked the child tremulously, with returning hope.

Mr. Evringham was quite certain that it had been curiosity, but he was willing to accept a higher sounding hypothesis.

"Mother explained to me about God making 'the wrath of man to praise Him,'" added Jewel after the moment's pause. "If it makes you kind to cousin Eloise, perhaps we can be glad you read it."

"What is the matter with Eloise?" asked Mr. Evringham.

Jewel sat up, fixed him with her eyes, pressed her lips together, and shook her head.

"You won't tell me?"

The head went on firmly shaking.

"Then let me read the letter again."

"No, grandpa," decidedly.

He kept one arm around her as he smoothed his mustache. "Is there something you think I ought to do?"

A light seemed to illumine the eyes that the little girl kept fixed on his, but she did not speak.

"Do you think it discourteous for me to spend my evenings away from those two? They don't want me, child."

Still she did not speak. Mr. Evringham was divided between a desire to shake her and the wish to see the familiar fondness return to her face.

"You wrote that Eloise thinks I do not want her and her mother here. Her intelligence is of a higher order than I feared. Well, what can be done about it? I've been asking myself that for some time. How would it do to settle some money upon them and then say good-by?"

"If you did it with love," suggested Jewel.

"It's my impression that they could dispense with the love under those circumstances." The broker gave a slight smile.

The child put an impulsive little hand on his shoulder. "No indeed, grandpa. Nobody can do without love. It hurts cousin Eloise because she isn't your real relation. She doesn't know how kind you are inside." The child's lips closed suddenly.

"She fixed your hair very nicely," Mr. Evringham viewed the flaxen head critically. "That's one thing in her favor."

"She's full of things in her favor," returned Jewel warmly. "Error's using you, grandpa, not to love her. If we don't love people we can't be sure anything we do to them is right."

Mr. Evringham raised one hand and scratched his head slowly, regarding Jewel with what she felt was intended to be a humorous air.

"Couldn't you give me an easier one?" he asked.

"Oh grandpa," the flaxen head nestled against his breast and the child sighed. "I wish everybody knew how kind you are," and the broker patted her shoulder and enjoyed the clinging pressure of her cheek, for it assured him that again he stood firmly on the pedestal.



CHAPTER XVIII

ESSEX MAID

The rain and wind lasted for three days, clearing at last on an evening which proved eventful.

Mr. Evringham had taken a long ride into the country roundabout, and Jewel had been down at the gate to greet his return. He swung her up into the saddle with him, and in triumph she rode to the barn.

Mrs. Evringham observed this from the window and reported to Eloise.

"I didn't suppose father would be so indulgent to any living thing as he is to that child," she said rather dejectedly. "Do you know, Eloise, Mrs. Forbes says that Jewel spends every evening with him in his study."

"Indeed? I'm not surprised. He had to take pity on her since we would not."

Mrs. Evringham sighed. "I really believe nobody was ever so exasperating as you are," she returned. "When Jewel first came, if you remember, I wished to welcome her,—in fact I did,—but you refused to be decently civil. Now you speak as if we had made a mistake, and that it was my fault. I wish you would let Dr. Ballard prescribe for you. I don't think you are well."

"He does prescribe roses and chocolates, and I take them, don't I?"

"Yes, and after this you can have some golf. It will do you good."

To-day was the third during which Eloise had helped her cousin with the morning lesson and brushed and braided her hair. Jewel had had many minds about whether to tell Eloise of her escaped secret. An intuition bade her refrain, but the sense of dishonesty was more than the child could bear; so that morning, during the hair braiding, she had confessed. She began thus:—

"I wrote to my father and mother last night how good you were to me."

"Did you tell them how good you were to me?" asked the girl, so kindly that the child's heart leaped within her and she more than ever wished that she had nothing to confess.

"I wish I could be, cousin Eloise; I meant to be, but error crept in." The girl was learning something of the new phraseology, and she smiled at Jewel in the glass and was surprised to find what troubled eyes met hers. "I went to sleep that night waiting for grandpa to be through with his book, and when I waked up he had read my letter."

Eloise's smile faded. "Tell me again what you said in it," she returned.

Jewel's lips quivered. "I said how kind you were, and washed my hair, and asked me not to tell grandpa—"

"You put that in?" Eloise interrupted eagerly.

The child took courage from her changed tone. "Yes; I said you didn't want him to know you were kind to me."

The girl smiled slightly and went on with her brushing.

"He wished he hadn't read it when he saw how sorry I was. He asked my pardon and said he had done bad form. I don't know what that is."

"It's the worst thing that can happen to some people," returned Eloise. "Good form is said to be the New York conscience."

"Oh," responded Jewel, not understanding, but too relieved and grateful that her cousin was not unforgiving to press the matter.

Eloise fell into thought. Mr. Evringham had certainly been more genial at table, conversation had been more general and sustained last evening than ever before the advent of Jewel, and he had not sneered, either. Eloise searched her memory for some word or look that might have given hurt to her self-esteem, but she could find none.

On this evening Mr. Evringham was in unusual spirits at dinner time. He told of the pleasure of Essex Maid at finding herself free of the stable again, and of the gallop he had taken among the hills.

The meat course had just been removed when Sarah came in with a troubled face, saying that Zeke wanted to see Mr. Evringham. Something was the matter with Essex Maid. She seemed "very bad."

The master's face changed, and he moved back from the table. The countenances of the others showed consternation. Mrs. Forbes turned pale. Had Zeke done anything, or left something undone? She dropped her tray and hastened after Mr. Evringham. Eloise noticed that Jewel's eyes were closed. In a minute the child pushed back from the table, and without a word to the others she hurried to the scene of trouble. She met Mrs. Forbes rushing to the kitchen for hot water.

"Go straight into the house, Jewel," cried the housekeeper with an anger born of her excitement. "Don't you go near that barn and get in the way."

The child, scarcely hearing her, fled on. As she entered the barn she heard her grandfather's voice addressing Zeke, who was flinging a saddle on Dick.

"Dr. Busby'll leave anything when he knows it's the Maid." He didn't need to say "hurry." Zeke was as anxious as his master to get the veterinary surgeon.

Essex Maid had fallen in her stall and was making her misery apparent, tossing her head and rolling her eyes. Her master's teeth were set.

"Grandpa, may I try to help?" came Jewel's eager voice.

"Go away, child," sternly. "You'll get hurt."

"But may I treat her?"

"Do anything," brusquely; "but don't come near."

Jewel ran to the back of the barn, dropped on the floor, and buried her face in her hands.

Five minutes passed, ten, fifteen. Zeke rode up to the barn door, white and wild-eyed in the twilight.

"Dr. Busby was away!" he gasped. "They tried to get him on the telephone, and at last did. He'll be here in a few minutes."

"The Maid's better," said Mr. Evringham, wiping his forehead. "There hasn't been a repetition of the attack." Mrs. Forbes stood by, fanning herself with her apron. The mare was standing quietly.

"Great Scott, but I'm glad!" replied Zeke devoutly. "I've seen 'em keel up with that. You can go through me with a fine tooth comb, Mr. Evringham, and you won't find a thing I've neglected for that mare." Excitement had placed the young fellow beyond his awe for the master.

"I believe you, boy," returned the broker. In his relief he would have believed anything.

"See the poor kid," said Zeke, catching sight of the little figure sitting out of earshot, where the twilight touched her.

Mr. Evringham wheeled and strode back to the child. Her face was still hidden.

"Don't cry, Jewel," he said kindly, his voice unsteady. "She's better."

The child looked up radiantly. "I knew it!"

The unexpected look and exclamation startled her grandfather. "Zeke says the doctor can't get here for a little while," he went on, "but the mare is out of pain."

"It's all right," rejoined the child joyously. "The doctor ought not to come. We shall do better without him."

The first gleam of her meaning began to shine across the broker's mind. He stared down at the little figure, uncertain whether to laugh or cry, sufficiently shaken to do either.

"Why, you midget you," he said, picking the child up in his arms; "have you been trying your tricks over here in the corner?"

"That isn't the way to talk, grandpa, when God has helped us so," returned Jewel earnestly.

Zeke, following his employer, had heard this colloquy, and stared open mouthed.

When Dr. Busby arrived he was a much injured man. "The mare's perfectly fit," he grumbled. "You've made me leave an important case."

"Very sorry," returned Mr. Evringham, trying to look so. "The fact is the Maid has given us a scare in the last hour that I shouldn't like repeated. Look her over carefully, Busby, carefully."

"I have." The veterinary gave a cross look around the group, his glance resting a moment on the upturned face of a little flaxen-haired girl who stood with her hand in Mr. Evringham's.

"He's falling into his dotage, I guess," said the doctor privately to Zeke, as he prepared to ride away.

"Don't fool yourself," returned the young fellow. "The mare pretty near scared me into a fit. My knees ain't real steady yet."

He stood watching the disappearing figure of the veterinary. "That kid believes praying did it," he mused. "I ain't going to believe that, of course, but the whole thing was the queerest ever."

Mr. Evringham, after one more visit to the stall of Essex Maid, started back to the house, Jewel skipping beside him.

Mrs. Forbes remained in the barn, one hand still pressed to her ample bosom, a teakettle in the other.

"What'd you calc'late to do, ma?" inquired her son, approaching her.

"Wring out hot flannels. It's sense to treat colic the same, whether it's in a horse or a baby."

Zeke laughed. "Essex Maid didn't think so, did she?"

"Wouldn't let us do a thing. I saw the tears drip out of Mr. Evringham's eyes plain as I see you now. Zeke Forbes, you'll never know what it was to me to have you come in and speak the way you did. You couldn't have done it if you'd mistreated the horse any way."

"Thank you," returned the coachman emphatically. "I ain't monkeying with buzz saws this year."

"Not knowingly you wouldn't. But, child,"—Mrs. Forbes set down the kettle and pressed the other hand tighter to her bosom as she came closer to him, "last night you'd been drinking when you came home."

"Ho!" laughed Zeke uncomfortably, "just a smile or two with the boys. By ginger, you've got a nose on you, mother."

"Can you think of your father and then laugh over it, Zeke? There hasn't a man ever come to be a sot that didn't laugh about it in the first place."

"Now, mother, now, now," said the young fellow in half-impatient tones of consolation, as he took the handkerchief from her apron pocket and wiped her eyes, where tears began to spring. "You must trust a chap to do what's right. I ain't a fool. Don't you think about this again. I can take care of myself. Come now, to change the subject, what's your opinion of Christian Science as applied to horses with the colic?"

"What do you mean?" returned the housekeeper in an unusually subdued tone.

"Why, didn't you catch on? The kid was over there in the corner treating the Maid. That's what they call it, treating 'em. Mr. Evringham laughed when he found out, and she jumped on him. Yes, she did; came right out and told him that wasn't the way to show his gratitude, or something like that. Think of the nerve!"

"I ain't surprised. That child can't surprise me."

"But what do you think of it, ma? I tell you 't was queer, the way that mare's pain stopped. Of course I ain't going to believe—but," firmly, "I can't get away from a notion that those Christian Science folks know something that we don't. Busby was madder'n a hornet. I didn't scarcely know what to say to him."

"Don't be soft, Zeke," returned his mother, picking up the kettle. "The time for superstition has gone by."

As Jewel and her grandfather entered the house they heard music.

"That's cousin Eloise playing. Have you heard her grandpa?"

"Yes, when they first came."

"Than you haven't sat with them in the evening for a long time?" suggested the child.

"No. I—I didn't wish to monopolize their society. I wanted to give Dr. Ballard a chance. He is a friend of theirs, you know."

"Yes, but I think cousin Eloise would be glad if she thought you liked her playing. It's very beautiful, isn't it, grandpa?"

"Yes, I dare say. Then, besides, I'm not at all sure that Mrs. Evringham would permit me to smoke in the drawing-room."

"But wouldn't it be nice to go in there just a few minutes before you go to your study? I love to hear cousin Eloise play, but I like to be with you, grandpa."

Mr. Evringham was in a yielding state of mind. He allowed the pressure of the child's hand on his to lead him to the drawing-room, where his entrance made a little stir.

Dr. Ballard was sitting near the piano, listening to the music. Everybody rose as the newcomers entered.

"How are you, Ballard? Jewel wished to hear her cousin's music, and so behold us. If we bring a reminder of the stable, blame her."

"Oh father, that dear horse is all right, I'm sure," gushed Mrs. Evringham, "or else you wouldn't be here!"

"What? Something the matter with Essex Maid?" asked Dr. Ballard with concern.

"Yes." Mr. Evringham seated himself. "A sharp attack, but short. She was relieved before we could get Busby here." The speaker contracted his eyebrows and looked at the child, who was still beside him. "The mare had received mental treatments meanwhile," he added gravely.

Dr. Ballard smiled, and drawing Jewel to him, lifted her upon his knee. "Look here," he said, "can't you let anything around here be sick in peace? We doctors shall have to form a union and manage to get you boycotted."

The child smiled back at him, her head a little on one side, as her manner was when she was in doubt how to respond.

"What a blessing!" exclaimed Mrs. Evringham vivaciously. "Here, father, is the best cup of coffee you ever drank, if I did make it myself."

Many weeks had elapsed since the broker had accepted a cup of coffee from that fair hand, but he rose now to take it with good grace.

"Is there going to be some cambric tea for this baby?" inquired Dr. Ballard.

"You must be hungry, Jewel; you hadn't finished your dinner," said her grandfather, but she protested that she was not.

"How is Anna Belle?" asked Dr. Ballard. "It's a long time since I saw her."

"Would you like to?" asked Jewel doubtfully.

"Why—of—course!—if she's still up. Don't have her dress on my account."

"She doesn't go to bed till I do," responded the child. "I know she'd love to come down!" In a flash she had bounded to the door and disappeared.

Eloise was still sitting on the piano stool, facing the room. "Grandfather," she said, leaning slightly forward in her earnestness, "did Jewel really treat Essex Maid?"

The broker shrugged his shoulders and smiled as he stirred his coffee.

"I believe she did."

"And do you think it did the horse any good?"

"Don't be absurd!" cried her mother laughingly, on nettles lest the girl displease the young doctor.

"Don't crowd me, Eloise, don't crowd me," responded Mr. Evringham. "I'd rather have something a little more substantial doing for a sick horse than the prayers of an infant; eh, Ballard?"

"I've been reading Jewel's Christian Science book a great deal the last few days," said Eloise. "If it's the truth, then she helped Essex Maid."

Mrs. Evringham was dismayed. "What a very large if, my dear," she returned lightly.

"She's a bright little girl," said Dr. Ballard, and as he spoke Jewel came back.

She brought her doll straight to him, and he took both child and doll on his lap.

"Dear fellow," thought Mrs. Evringham, "how fond he is of children! I'd like to put Eloise in a strait-jacket. Do play some more, dear, won't you?" she said aloud, eager to return to safe ground.

"Oh yes, cousin Eloise," added Jewel ardently.

"If you will sing afterward. Will you?" asked the girl.

"Can you sing, Jewel?" asked Mr. Evringham.

"No, grandpa, nothing but the tunes in church."

"Well," he responded, half smiling again, "I don't know that a hymn would be so out of place to-night."

"Do play the lovely running thing about spring, cousin Eloise," begged the child.

The girl turned back to the piano. "Jewel is so modern that she doesn't know the Mendelssohn 'Spring Song,'" she said, and forthwith she began it.

Jewel's head lay back against Dr. Ballard's shoulder, and her eyes never swerved from the white-robed musician.

When the player had finished and been thanked, the child and the doctor exchanged a look of appreciation. "That sounds the way it does in the Ravine of Happiness," said Jewel.

"Where is that?"

"Where the brook is."

"Oh!" Dr. Ballard had unpleasant associations with the brook. "I understand you are fond of horses," he added irrelevantly.

"Oh yes."

"Do you want to go driving with me to-morrow morning?"

Jewel's face grew radiant.

"Oh yes!" She looked across at her grandfather.

"I promised to take you driving, didn't I, Jewel? Well, the pleasant weather has come. I guess she'll go with me to-morrow, Ballard."

"Guess again, Mr. Evringham," retorted the doctor gayly. "She has accepted my invitation."

Mrs. Evringham looked on and wondered. "What is it about that child that takes them all?" she soliloquized. "She reminds me of that dreadfully plain Madam what's-her-name, who was so fascinating to everybody at the French court."

Eloise was smiling. "Now it's your turn, Jewel," she said.

The child looked from one to another. "I never sang for anybody," she returned doubtfully.

"Yes indeed, for Anna Belle. I've heard you," said Eloise.

"Oh, she was singing with me."

"Very well. Let her sing with you now."

"What one?"

"The one I heard,—'Father, where Thine own children are I love to be.'"

"Oh, you mean. 'O'er waiting harpstrings.' All right," and the child, sitting where she was, sang the well-loved hymn to a touched audience.

"Upon my word, Jewel," said her grandfather when she had finished. "Your music isn't all in your soul." His eyes were glistening.

"Those are beautiful words," said Dr. Ballard. "I don't remember any such hymn."

"Mrs. Eddy wrote it," returned the child.



"It wasn't Castle Discord to-night," she said later to Anna Belle, while they were going to bed. "Didn't you notice how much differently people loved one another?"



CHAPTER XIX

A MORNING DRIVE

"I declare, Eloise," said Mrs. Evringham the next morning, "it is almost worth three whole days of storm to have a spell of such heavenly weather to follow. We're sure of several days like this now," She was standing at the open window, having shown a surprising energy in rising soon after breakfast.

She glanced over her shoulder at her daughter, who was picking up the garments strewn about the room. "Now you can live out of doors, I hope, and get yourself toned up again. Really, last evening things were very comfortable, weren't they?"

"Yes. I thought the lump had begun to be leavened," returned the girl.

"Talk English, please," said her mother vivaciously. "Father seemed quite human, and that is all we have ever needed to make things tolerable here. I suppose we reaped the benefit of his relief about the horse."

"It's all Jewel," said Eloise, smiling. "That's English, isn't it?"

"Jewel!" Mrs. Evringham exclaimed. "Why, you're all daffy about that child. What is the attraction?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out. It's time for me to go up now and braid her hair and read the lesson."

Mrs. Evringham regarded her daughter. "Young people are eager for novelty, I know," she said, "and it would seem as if an interest in a child was an innocent diversion for you at a time when you were growing morbid, but I do think I'm the most unlucky woman in the world! To think that the child should have to be a Christian Scientist, and that you should take this perverse interest in her ideas just now. I haven't spoken of your remarks about the horse last night, but it was in poor taste, to say the least, to mention such nonsense before Dr. Ballard, and apparently do it so seriously. I knew you had been helping Jewel with lessons, but until last evening I didn't suspect that it might all be on that odious subject. Is it, Eloise?"

"Yes, but it isn't odious. I like the fruit of it in her."

"You've never shown Dr. Ballard your most agreeable side, and now if you're going to parade before him, an Episcopalian and a physician, an interest in this—anarchism, I shan't blame him in the smallest degree if he gives up all thought of you."

Eloise, the undemonstrative, put an arm around her mother. "Shan't you, really?" she replied wistfully. "If I could only hope that."

"Do you want to give me nervous prostration?" rejoined Mrs. Evringham sharply. "Eloise," her voice suddenly breaking, "do you love to torment me?"

"Indeed I don't, poor mother, but I've been so tormented myself, and so desirous not to—oh, not to do anything ignoble! I can't tell you all I've endured since—" She paused, her lips unsteady.

"Since we lost your father," dismally. "Yes, I know it. I'm the most unlucky woman in the world!"

Eloise's arm tightened about her mother as she went on, "Since I was enchanted and thrown into Castle Discord." She looked off at the mental picture of her cousin. "Mother," she turned back suddenly, "what a wonderful thing it is if there really is a God."

"Why, Eloise Evringham, have you ever doubted it! That's positively ill-bred!"

"But One that would be any good to us! Jewel's mother thinks she knows such a One, and so does the child. I wish you'd look into this Christian Science with me. You might find it better than getting grandfather to pay our bills, better than marrying me to Dr. Ballard."

Mrs. Evringham raised her eyes to her deity. "What have I ever done," she ejaculated, "that I should have a queer child! Well, I will not look into it," she returned decidedly; "and if Dr. Ballard were not the broad, noble type of man that he is, he wouldn't take the trouble to notice and entertain a child who has treated him as she has. It might touch even you to see the lengths to which he goes to please you. I hope you will at least have the grace to go down with Jewel to the buggy and see them off."

"I couldn't in this wrapper," replied Eloise, releasing the speaker.

"Of course not, so put on a dress before you go up to Jewel."

"It's too late, dear. He'll be here by half-past ten. I must have her ready."

Mrs. Evringham looked after her daughter's retreating figure, and then her lips came together firmly. She untied the ribbons of the loose gown of lace and silk, in which she had keyed herself up by degrees to face the requirements of luncheon and the afternoon's diversions, and donned a conventional dress, in which she composed herself by the window to watch for the doctor's buggy. There was a vista in the park avenue which afforded a fair look at equipages three minutes before they could reach Mr. Evringham's gateway.

From the moment the doctor's office hour was over this stanch supporter set herself to watch that gap. As soon as she saw Hector's dappled coat and easy stride she sprang up and went downstairs, and when the shining buggy paused at the steps and Dr. Ballard jumped out, she appeared on the piazza to greet him.

"What an inspiring morning!" she said, as he removed his hat. "That insane girl!" she thought. "If he had chanced to be awkward and plain, he would have been just as important to us. His good looks are thrown in, and yet she won't behave herself."

"Glorious indeed!" he replied heartily. "Where's my young lady?"

Mrs. Evringham had plenty of worldly experience, and not even her enemies called her stupid, but at this moment there was but one young lady in the world to her, as she believed there was to him.

"She is upstairs braiding Jewel's hair," she replied before she realized her own insanity. Then she hastened on, coloring under the odd look in his eyes, "But you mean Jewel, of course. She will be down at once, I'm sure. It's so kind of you to take her."

"Not at all. She's an original worth cultivating."

Mrs. Evringham shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose she must be, since you all say so. Eloise gives up a surprising amount of time to her, but I can't judge much from that, because Eloise is so unselfish. For my part, the child's ideas are so strange, and my little girl is still so young and impressionable, I object to having them much together. It may seem very absurd, when Jewel is so young."

"No; I saw last evening how interested Miss Eloise already is."

"Oh," hastily, "she pretends to be, and I assure you I object. Eloise has a good mind, and I hope you will offer a little antidote now and then to the stuff she has begun to read. A word to the wise, Dr. Ballard. I need say no more."

It was true. Mrs. Evringham had no need to say more. Her ideas, and especially those which related to himself, had always been inscribed in large characters and words of one syllable for her present companion, who was a young man of considerable perception and discrimination.

He had not time to reply before Jewel, radiant of face, appeared in the doorway, where she hesitated, her doll in her arms.

"I brought Anna Belle," she said doubtfully, "but I can leave her under the stairs if there isn't room."

"Anna Belle under the stairs on a morning like this! And in such a toilet? Talk about error!" The doctor's tone was tragic as he lifted the happy child into the buggy.

Mrs. Evringham nodded a reply to their smiling farewells as Hector sprang forward, and she looked after them in some perplexity.

"Why should he take the trouble?" she reflected. "It would have been such a splendid morning for them to have gone riding if he had this leisure. Of course it must have been just one of his indirect and lovely ways of trying to please Eloise."

Just as she was solacing herself with the latter reflection, her daughter stepped out on the piazza, a little black book in her hand.

"Warm enough to sit out, isn't it?" she remarked.

Her mother looked at her critically. She had not seen this care-free look on her child's face since Lawrence died.

"Why didn't you come out a little sooner?"

"I wasn't presentable. How delicious the air is!"

"Yes. Let us sit here and finish that novel."

"All right."

"What have you there?"

"Mrs. Eddy's book,—'Science and Health.'"

Mrs. Evringham made a grimace. "I read part of it once. That was enough for me. Think of the price they charge for it, too. Think of pretending it is such a good thing for everybody to have, and then putting a price on it that prohibits the average pocketbook." Eloise's smile annoyed her mother. "Weren't you with me the day Nat Bonnell's mother said so much about it?"

"How foolish she was not to try it," said Eloise. "Such a hopeless, monotonous invalid."

"Well, some of her friends worked hard enough to induce her to, but when she found out the mercenary side of it, she saw at once that it couldn't be trustworthy."

"I suppose even Christian Scientists must have a roof and food and clothes," returned Eloise coolly; "but I've thought a good deal the last few days about the criticisms I've heard on the price of the book. The fuss over that three dollars is certainly very funny, when the average pocketbook goes to the theatre sometimes, has flowers for its entertainments, and rejoices to find lace reduced from a dollar and a quarter to ninety-five cents a yard for its gowns. It eagerly hoards and spends three dollars for some passing pleasure or effect, but winces and ponders over paying the same sum for a book that will last a lifetime, and which, if it is worth anything, furnishes the key to every problem in life."

"But why isn't it as cheap as the Bible if it is so beneficial?"

"It will be, probably, when it is generally respected. For the present it wouldn't be wise to cast it about like pearls before swine." Eloise smiled at herself. "You see I'm talking as if I knew it all. My wisdom comes partially from what I have extracted from Jewel, and partly from what is obvious. I haven't reached the place yet where I am convinced, but this book is wonderfully interesting. It came to me in the darkest hour I have ever known, and it has—it has seemed to feed me when I was starving. I don't know how else to put it. I can't think of anything else. Mother, why haven't we a Bible? I was ashamed when Jewel asked me."

Mrs. Evringham, astonished and dismayed by her daughter's earnestness, drew herself up. "We have a Bible, certainly. What an idea!"

"Where is it?" eagerly.

"In the storage warehouse with the other books."

Eloise's laugh nettled her mother.

"The prayer books are upstairs on my table. What more do you want if you are going to take an interest in such things? I wish you would, dear, and embroider an altar cloth while you are here. I'm sure father would gladly contribute the materials and feel a pride in it."

"Oh mother," Eloise still smiled, "you know he never goes to church."

"But he contributes largely."

"Well, I haven't time to embroider altar cloths. Shall I get the story?"

"Yes, do. We'll go around the corner, out of the wind."

Meanwhile Dr. Ballard's buggy was covering the ground rapidly. Through the avenues of the park sped Hector, and joy! Dr. Ballard allowed Jewel to drive as long as they remained within its precincts. Slipping his hand through the reins above where she grasped them, he held Anna Belle on his knee. Jewel had not suspected the size of the park. One could almost see the watered leaves increase in the sunshine, and the birds were swelling their little throats to the utmost. The roses in her cheeks deepened in her happy excitement. She allowed the doctor to do most of the talking, while she kept her eyes on the horse's ears. Just once she ventured to turn enough to glance at him.

"I've had dreams of driving horses," she said.

"Is this the first time you've done it waking?"

"No, the second. Father took me once in Washington Park just before he came away, but the horse didn't pull like this." She smiled seraphically.

"So, boy, steady," said the doctor soothingly, and Hector obeyed the voice.

"Did you play in the Ravine of Happiness when you were a little boy?"

"Where's that?"

"Where the brook is."

"Oh yes. Are you planning to take me to that brook and wet my feet, Jewel?"

"We've gone long past it. Don't you know?"

"I think my education has been neglected. I don't remember it."

"We can go," returned Jewel suggestively.

"Very well, we will; but first I have a couple of visits I must make."

The horse was now trotting toward the park gate. As they reached it Dr. Ballard returned Anna Belle and took the lines.

Jewel gave an unconscious sigh of rapture. "Trolleys and so on, you know," explained Dr. Ballard. "When you come back ten years from now you shall drive outside too. How was Essex Maid this morning?"

"She was all right, but grandpa took only a short ride. I guess he was a little—bit—afraid."

"She's the apple of his eye, or he wouldn't have been so nervous over a trifle last evening," remarked the doctor.

"Well, she made a great fuss," replied Jewel. "She fell down in her stall, and everything like that."

"Did she really?"

"Yes. Zeke said his knees were shaking."

"But she was all right by the time Dr. Busby arrived?"

"Yes."

Dr. Ballard looked at his small companion, a quizzical smile curving his mustache.

"I've never thought of taking a partner, Jewel, but I might consider a mascot. What do you say to sharing my office and being my mascot? Special high chair for Anna Belle, be it well understood."

The little girl eyed him, her head on one side. It was her experience that all men were jokers. "I don't know what a mascot is," she replied.

"It's something or somebody that brings one good luck."

"Do you think I could bring you good luck?"

"It looks that way. Of course there are certain rules you would have to observe. It wouldn't do for you to talk against materia medica to the patients in the anteroom."

"What is an anteroom?"

"The place where my patients wait until I can see them in my office."

Jewel lifted her shoulders and smiled. "I might read them 'Science and Health' while they waited, and then they wouldn't have to go in."

Dr. Ballard's laugh rang heartily along the leafy street. "Is that your idea of mascoting a poor young physician?" he inquired.

Jewel laughed in sympathy. She didn't quite understand him, but she knew that they were having a very good time.

Pretty soon her companion drove in at the gate of an imposing old residence, set back from the street where the trolley ran with an air of withdrawing from the intrusion of these modern tracks.

"I thought it wouldn't injure your conscience to wait for me while I made a couple of professional visits, Jewel, eh?" he asked, as he jumped out and fastened Hector to the ring in the hand of a bronze boy. "I won't be any longer than I can help, and don't you go to hoodooing me, now, while I'm upstairs." The doctor returned to the buggy and took the black case, frowning warningly at the child. "I have troubles enough here without that. This old lady used to trot me on her knee, and she wants to spend half an hour every morning proving that doctors don't know anything before she'll let me get to business."

"It must be hard for doctors," returned Jewel, "going to sorry people all the time, and nothing to give them except something on their tongues."

Dr. Ballard gave his small companion a quick glance. If he secretly considered her beliefs as too richly absurd to excite aught but amusement, she evidently as honestly compassionated the poverty of ideas in his learned profession.

"Well, I'll hurry," he said, and vanished within the house. Time would not have dragged for Jewel had he stayed all the morning. To sit in the shining buggy in close proximity to the dappled gray Hector, and with Anna Belle for a sympathizer, caused the minutes to be winged.

When the doctor returned, a radiant face welcomed him.

"I thought I should never get away," he sighed, "but you don't look bored."

He untied the horse, jumped into the buggy, and they were off again, Hector striding along as if to make up for lost time. "Now only one more call, Jewel, and then we'll get back out of the dust again," said the doctor cheerily.

"I haven't noticed any dust, Dr. Ballard. I'm having the most fun!"

"Well now, I'm glad of that. It's a great thing to be eight years old, Jewel."

"That's what cousin Eloise says. She says she'd like to be."

"Indeed? How is the enchanting—excuse me—I mean the enchanted maiden this morning?"

"She's well. She ties my bows now, so grandpa doesn't have to."

"Ties your—" The doctor looked at the speaker, mystified.

Jewel put her hand up to the small billows of silk behind her ear. "My hair bows. They were real hard for grandpa to do."

Dr. Ballard repressed a guffaw, and then turned solemn. "Do you mean to say that Mr. Evringham tied your hair ribbons?"

"Why yes."

"That settles it, Jewel. You must go into partnership with me and wave wands and things. Setting Essex Maid on her legs wasn't a patch on that."

Jewel regarded him questioningly a moment and then repeated, "But it was real hard for grandpa."

"I can believe it!"

"And cousin Eloise is the kindest girl. She's like grandpa about that. Her kindness is inside, too."

"Is it indeed? You don't know how much I thank you for telling me where to look for it."

"Oh, she must be kind to you, Dr. Ballard!"

"Once in a while, once in a while," he replied cautiously, but Jewel couldn't get a look into his eyes, though she tried, he was so busily engaged poking an invisible fly from Hector's side with the point of the whip. "If you'll find a way to make her kind to me all the time, Jewel, then you will be my mascot indeed."

"All you have to do is to know she is," replied the child earnestly. "I felt the way you do, at first, but now I've found out just because I stopped being afraid."

"Ah, that's the recipe, eh? All I've to do is to stop being afraid."

"That's all!" cried Jewel, beaming at his ready comprehension. "You'll find out there isn't a thing to be afraid of with Cousin Eloise, and oh, Dr. Ballard," the child smiled at him wistfully, "she's getting so—so—unenchanted."

"You just waved your wand, I suppose, and said 'Presto change,'" returned the young man.

He turned Hector down a side street and drew rein under a large elm. "Here's my rheumatic gentleman," he added, as he jumped from the buggy and fastened the horse. "He won't keep me waiting while he abuses doctors, so I shan't be quite so long this time." The speaker seized his case and went up a garden path to the house, and Jewel, with a luxurious sigh, set Anna Belle in the place he had vacated.



CHAPTER XX

BY THE BROOKSIDE

Scarcely had she seen the doctor admitted and the house door closed when an approaching pedestrian caught her eye. She recognized him at once, and a little more color stole into her round cheeks, while an unconscious smile touched her lips.

The gentleman had observed the doctor enter the house, and glanced idly as he passed, to see what child was waiting in the buggy. The half shy look of recognition which he met surprised him. Somewhere he had seen that rosy face. Going on his way and searching his memory he had left the buggy behind, when in a flash it came to him how, one day, that same shy, pleased smile had beamed wistfully upon him in a trolley car.

Instantly he turned back, and in a minute Jewel saw him standing beside her. He lifted his hat and replaced it as he held out his hand.

"We've met before, haven't we?" he asked kindly.

Jewel shook hands with him, much pleased. "My mother and father have gone to Europe," she said "and it seemed as if there wasn't a Scientist in the whole world until I saw you."

"Another proof of what I always say—that we should all wear the pin. I didn't know that Dr. Ballard had any Science relations."

"Oh, Dr. Ballard and I are not relations," explained Jewel seriously. "I think he wants to marry my cousin Eloise; but he hasn't ever said so, and I don't like to ask him. He's the kindest man. I just love him, and he's letting me ride around with him while he makes calls."

"Why, that's very nice, I'm sure," returned Mr. Reeves, smiling broadly. "Does he know that you're a Christian Scientist?"

"Oh, yes, indeed. I had a claim, and my grandpa called him to help me, so then I told him, but he kept on reflecting love just the same."

Mr. Reeves scented an interesting experience, but he would not question the child. "Nice fellow, Guy Ballard. He deserves a better fate than to bow down to false gods all his days."

"Yes, indeed," returned Jewel heartily.

"But, as you say," continued Mr. Reeves, "he reflects love, and so we shall hear of his being a successful physician."

"Yes, I want him to be always happy," said the child.

"Who is your grandfather, my dear?"

"Mr. Evringham."

"Is it possible? Then you are—whose child?"

"My father's name is Harry."

"Of course, of course." Mr. Reeves nodded, trying to conceal his surprise. "And is he a Scientist now?"

"Yes, my mother is teaching him to be."

"Well, I'm sure I'm very glad to hear this. Your grandfather is not unkindly disposed toward Science?"

"My grandfather couldn't be unkind to anything! I thought you knew him."

Mr. Reeves smoothed his mustache vigorously. "I thought I did," he returned. "You spoke of your cousin. I knew your aunt and cousin were with Mr. Evringham now. Well, I'm glad, I'm sure, that you are so pleasantly situated. You must come to our little hall some Sunday where we have service, you know. It will be rather different from your beautiful churches in Chicago."

"But I'd love to come," replied the child eagerly. "I didn't know there was one here. I'll get grandpa to bring me."

"Mr. Evringham!" The speaker could feel the tendency of his jaw to drop.

"Yes, or else cousin Eloise. She helps me get the lesson every day, and then she takes my book and reads and reads. She told me this morning she read almost all last night."

Mr. Reeves nodded slowly once or twice. "Still they come," he murmured meditatively.

"Would you—would you mind writing down where that hall is?" asked the child.

"Certainly I will." Mr. Reeves suited the action to the word, taking an envelope from his pocket for the purpose. "And if I ever see Mr. Evringham there"—he said slowly, "by the way, please tell your grandfather that we met and had this chat."

"I don't know your name," returned the child.

"Why, of course. Pardon me. Reeves. Mr. Reeves. Can you remember that?"

The little girl flashed a bright look at him. "We can't forget," she reminded him.

"Of course," he nodded. "Exactly. I'm very likely younger in Science than you are, little one. How long have you known about it?"

Jewel thought. "Seven years," she replied.

Her companion gave a laughing exclamation. "There, you see. I've known for only one year. What is your name?"

"Jewel Evringham."

"Good-bye, Jewel, till we meet again, some Sunday soon, I hope."

They shook hands, and Mr. Reeves went smiling on his way.

"Seven years," he reflected. "There's the simon pure article. She can't be over nine. I'll wager Bel-Air Park has had its sensations of late. Evringham! The high ball, the billiard ball, and the race track, and now the reputation of being a difficult old martinet. Never unkind to anything! Why, she's a little feminine Siegfried, that precious Jewel. Ballard and the cousin, eh? I've heard that rumor."

When Dr. Ballard returned to the buggy, Jewel began loquaciously telling him of her pleasant experience.

"And he knows you, Mr. Reeves does, and he said you were a nice fellow," she finished, beaming.

"Very civil of him, I'm sure," returned the doctor as the horse started. "I distinctly remember his having a different opinion one night when he caught me in his favorite cherry tree; but I don't yet understand the levity of his behavior in scraping acquaintance with the young lady I left unprotected in my buggy."

"Oh, we'd met before in a trolley car," explained Jewel. "I wanted to run right to him when I first saw that he was a Scientist."

"A what? Mr. Reeves? Oh, go 'way, my little mascot. Go 'way!"

"Yes, he had on the pin—this one, you know." Jewel touched the small gold symbol, and Dr. Ballard examined it curiously. "So we smiled at each other, and to-day he's told me where I can come to church, and I'm nearly sure cousin Eloise will go with me."

Dr. Ballard's eyes grew serious as he turned Hector's head toward the park. "I can scarcely believe it of Mr. Reeves," he said.

"He says you are too nice to bow down to false gods," added Jewel shyly.

"If mine are false to you, yours are false to me," said the young man kindly. "You can understand that, can't you, Jewel?"

"Yes, I can."

"And we should never quarrel over it, should we?" he went on.

"No—o!" returned Jewel scornfully. "We'd get a pain."

"But you can see," went on the young doctor seriously, "that the more we cared for one another the more we should regret such a wide difference of opinion."

"I suppose so," agreed the child, "and so we'd—"

"You are going back to Chicago after a while, and so you understand that I can better afford to agree to differ with you than I could with some one who was going to stay here—your cousin Eloise, for instance."

The child looked at him in silence. She had never seen Dr. Ballard wear this expression.

"For this reason, Jewel, I want to ask you if you won't do me the favor not to talk to your cousin about Christian Science, nor ask her to read your books, nor to go to church with you."

The child's countenance reflected his seriousness.

"You can see, can't you, that if Miss Eloise should become much interested in that fad it would spoil our pleasure in being together, while it lasted?"

The word fad was not in Jewel's vocabulary, but she grasped the doctor's meaning, and understood that he was much in earnest. She felt very responsible for the moment, and in doubt how to express herself.

"I feel sort of mixed up, Dr. Ballard," she returned after a minute's silent perplexity. "You don't mind cousin Eloise reading the Bible, do you?"

"No."

"You're glad if she can be happy instead of sorry, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Jewel looked at him hopefully. "There won't be anything worse than that," she said.

"Yes, many things worse," he responded quickly. "You might do me that little favor, Jewel. I understand you go to her with your lessons, as you call it, and your questions."

"Yes, she helps me; but she takes my books to her room. I don't see how I can help it, Dr. Ballard."

"Well," he heaved a quiet sigh, "perhaps the attack will be shorter if it is sharp. We'll hope so."

"I wouldn't do any harm to you for anything," said the child earnestly, "but you wait a little while. When people come into Christian Science it makes them twice as nice. If you see cousin Eloise get twice as nice you'll be glad, won't you?"

The young man gave an impatient half laugh.

"I'm not grasping," he returned. "She does very well for me as she is. Now," he turned again to the child, who rejoiced in the recovered twinkle in his eyes, "you have my full permission to convert the error fairy."

"Hush, hush!" ejaculated Jewel, alarmed. "We mustn't hold that law over her."

Dr. Ballard laughed.

"Convert her, I say. Let us see what she would be like if she were twice as nice. She's a very charming woman now, your aunt Madge. If she were twice as nice—who knows? The fairy might spread wings and float away!"

They had entered the park and Jewel suddenly noted their surroundings. "We're coming to the Ravine of Happiness," she said.

"That's the way it's been looking to me ever since last evening," responded her companion meditatively.

The child paid no attention to his words. She was watching eagerly for the bend in the road beside which the gorge lay steepest.

"There!" she said at last, resting her hand on that of her companion. Obediently the doctor stopped his horse. The park was still but for the bird notes, the laughter and babble of the brook far below, and the rustle of the fresh leaves, each one a transparency for a sunbeam.

The two were silent for a minute, Jewel's radiant eyes seeking the pensive ones of her companion.

"Do you hear?" she asked softly at last.

"What?" he returned.

"It is cousin Eloise's Spring Song."



The doctor's words and looks remained in Jewel's mind after she reached home that day. She mused concerning him while she was taking off Anna Belle's hat and jacket up in her own room.

"I don't suppose you could understand much what he meant, dearie," she said, her face very sober from stress of thought, "but I did. If I'd been as big as mother I could have helped him; but I knew I was too little, and when people don't understand, mother says it is so easy to make mistakes in what you say to them."

Anna Belle's silence gave assent, and her sweet expression was always a solace to Jewel, who kissed the hard roses in her cheeks repeatedly before she sat her in the big chair by the window and went down to lunch. Anna Belle's forced abstemiousness had ceased to afflict her. At the lunch table she gave a vivacious account of the morning's diversions, and for once Mrs. Evringham listened to what she said, a curious expression on her face. This lady had expected to endure annoyance with this child on her grandfather's account; but for unkind fate to cause Jewel to be a hindrance and a marplot in the case of Dr. Ballard was adding insult to injury.

The child, suddenly catching the expression of Mrs. Evringham's eyes as they rested upon her, was startled, and ceased talking.

"Aunt Madge does love me," she declared mentally. "God's children love one another every minute, every minute."

"So Mr. Reeves told you where you can go to church," said Eloise, replying to Jewel's last bit of information.

"Yes, and"—the little girl was going on eagerly to suggest that her cousin accompany her, when suddenly Dr. Ballard's eyes seemed looking at her and repeating their protest.

She stopped, and ate for a time in silence. Mrs. Forbes paid little attention to what was being said. She moved about perfunctorily, with an air of preoccupation. She had a more serious trouble now than the care and intrusion of the belongings of Lawrence and Harry Evringham, a worry that for days and nights had not ceased to gnaw at her heart, first as a suspicion and afterward as a certainty.

When luncheon was over, Eloise in leaving the dining-room, put her arm around Jewel's shoulders, and together they strolled through the hall and out upon the piazza.

Mrs. Evringham looked after them. "If only that child weren't a little fanatic and Eloise in such an erratic, wayward state, ready to seize upon anything novel, it would be all very well," she mused, "for Dr. Ballard seems to find Jewel amusing, and it might be a point of common interest. As it is, if ever I wished any one in Jericho, it's that child."

Jewel, happy in the proximity of her lovely cousin, satisfied herself by a glance that aunt Madge was not following.

Eloise looked about over the sunny, verdant landscape. "What a deceitful world," she said. "It looks so serene and easy to live in. So it was very lovely over at your ravine this morning?"

"Oh!" Jewel looked up at her with eager eyes. "Let's go. You haven't been there. It's only a little way. You don't need your hat, cousin Eloise."

Summer was in the air. The girl was amused at the child's enthusiastic tone. "Very well," she answered.

Jewel drew her on with an embracing arm, and they descended the steps and walked down the path.

Suddenly the child stopped. "Doesn't it seem unkind to go without Anna Belle!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, nonsense," returned Eloise, smiling. "You're not going way upstairs to get her. We needn't tell her we went. She's been out driving all the morning. I think it's my turn."

The child looked happily up into her cousin's face. "I love to see you laugh, cousin Eloise," she returned, and they strolled on.

The park drives were deserted. The cousins reached the gorge without meeting any one. Leaning upon the slender fence, they gazed down into the green depths, and for a minute listened to the woodland melody.

"Isn't it just like your Spring Song?" asked the child at last.

"It is sweet and comforting and good," replied the girl slowly, a far-off look in her eyes.

Jewel lifted her shoulders. "Don't you want to get down there, cousin Eloise?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

"Yes," replied the girl promptly.

"Will it hurt your dress?" added Jewel, with a sudden memory of Mrs. Forbes, as she looked over her cousin's immaculate black and white costume.

"I guess not," laughed the girl. "Are you afraid Mrs. Forbes will put me to bed?"

She bent her lithe figure and was under the wire in a twinkling. Jewel crept gleefully after her, but was careful to hold her little skirts out of harm's way as they climbed down the steep bank and at last rested among the ferns by the brook. Its louder babble seemed to welcome them. Nature had been busy at her miracle working since the child's last visit. Without moving she could have gathered a handful of little blossoms. Instead, she rolled over and kissed a near clump of violets. "You darling, darling things!" she said.

Eloise looked up through far boughs to the fleece-flecked sky. "Everything worth living for is right here, Jewel," she said. "Let's have a tent and not give any one our address."

"I think we ought to let Dr. Ballard come, don't you?"

"Now why did you pick him out?" returned Eloise plaintively. She was resting her head against her clasped hands as she stretched herself against the incline of her verdant couch. Her companion did not reply at once, and Eloise lazily turned her head to where she could view the eyes fixed upon her.

"What are you thinking of, Jewel?"

"I was just thinking that if my mother made you a thin green dress that swept around you all long and narrow, you'd look like a flower, too."

The girl smiled back at the sky. "That's very nice. You can think those thoughts all you please."

"That wasn't all, though, because I was thinking about Dr. Ballard. He feels sorry. I couldn't tell you about it at lunch, because aunt Madge—well, because—"

"Yes," returned Eloise quietly. "It is better for us to be alone."

Jewel's brow relaxed. "Yes," she said contentedly, "in the Ravine of Happiness."

"Look out, though," continued the girl in the same quiet tone and looking back at the sky. "Look out what you say here. It is easy now to feel that all is harmonious, and that discords do not exist. I think even if grandfather appeared I could talk with him peacefully."

"I have thought about it," returned the child, "and it seems hard to know what to say; but I love you and Dr. Ballard both, so it will be sure to come out right. He feels sorry if you are beginning to like to study Christian Science."

"Really, did he speak of that to you? I think he might have chosen a man of his size."

"Of course he spoke of it when he found out I wanted to ask you to take me to our church."

"Where is the church here?" Eloise abandoned her lazy tone.

"They have a hall. Mr. Reeves wrote it down for me. Do you really care, cousin Eloise? You've been so kind and helped me, but do you really begin to care?"

"Care? Who could help caring, if it is true? I've been reading some of the tales of cures in your magazine. If those people tell the truth"—

"Why, cousin Eloise!" The child's shocked eyes recalled the girl's self-centred thoughts.

"I beg your pardon, dear. It was rude to say that. I'm not ill, Jewel. I'm so well and strong that—I've sometimes wished I wasn't, but life turned petty and disgusting to me. I resented everything. It is just as wonderful and radiant a star of hope to read that there is a sure way out of my tangle as if I had consumption and was promised a cure of that. I don't yet exactly believe it, but I don't disbelieve it. All I know is I want to read, read, read all the time. I was just thinking a minute ago that if we had the books here it would be perfect. This is the sort of place where it would be easiest to see that only the good is the real, and that the unsubstantiality of everything evil can be proved."

Jewel gave her head a little shake. "Just think of poor Dr. Ballard being afraid to have you believe that."

"But who wouldn't be afraid to believe it, who wouldn't!" exclaimed the girl vehemently.

"Why, I've always known it, cousin Eloise," returned the child simply.

"You dear baby. You haven't lived long. I don't want to climb into a fool's paradise only to fall out with a dull thud."

Jewel looked at her, grasping as well as she could her meaning. "I know I'm only a little girl; but if you should go to church with me," she said, "you'd see a lot of grown-up people who know it's true. Then we could go on Wednesday evenings and hear them tell what Christian Science has done for them."

"Oh, I'm sure I shouldn't like that," responded Eloise quickly. "How can they bear to tell!"

"They don't think it's right not to. There are lots of other people besides you that are sorry and need to learn the truth."

The rebuke was so innocent and, withal, so direct, that honest Eloise turned toward Jewel and made an impulsive grasp toward her, capturing nothing but the edge of the child's dress, which she held firmly.

"You're right, Jewel. I'm a selfish, thin-skinned creature," she declared.

The little girl shook her head. "You've got to stop thinking you are, you know," she answered. "You have to know that the error Eloise isn't you."

"That's mortal mind, I suppose," returned Eloise, smiling at the sound of the phrase.

"I should think it was! Old thing! Always trying to cheat us!" said Jewel. "All that you have to do is to remember every minute that God's child must be manifested. He inherits every good and perfect thing, and has dominion over every belief of everything else."

Eloise stared at her in wonder. "Do you know what you've talking about, you little thing, when you use all those long words?"

"Yes. Don't you?" asked the child. "Oh, listen!" for a bird suddenly poured a wild strain of melody from the treetop.

"And just think," said Jewel presently, in a soft, awestruck tone, "that some people wear birds sewed on their hats, just as if they were glad something was dead!"

"It is weird," agreed Eloise. "I never liked it. Jewel, did Dr. Ballard blame you because I am interested in Christian Science?"

"He said he wished I wouldn't talk to you and go to church and everything."

The girl bit a blade of grass and eyed the child's serious face.

"Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"I asked God to show me. I wish Dr. Ballard would study with you."

"That is impossible. He has spent years learning his science, and he loves it and is proud of it; so what next?"

"Very queer things happen sometimes," rejoined Jewel doubtfully.

"But not so queer as that would be," returned Eloise.

Jewel was pondering. This was very delicate ground, and she still felt some awe of her cousin; however, there was only one thing to consider.

"Do you love him better than anybody, cousin Eloise?" she asked.

A flood of color warmed the girl's face, but she had to smile.

"Would that make the difference?" she asked. "Mustn't we want the truth anyway?"

Jewel heaved a mighty sigh. She was thinking of Dr. Ballard's pensive eyes. "I should think so," she answered frankly; "because if you just study the truth, and hold on tight, how can things be anything but happy at last? I wish I was more grown up, cousin Eloise," she added apologetically.

"Oh no, no," answered the girl, with a little catch in her throat. "I've had so much of grown-up people, Jewel! I'm so grown up myself! Just a little while ago I was a schoolgirl, busy and happy all the time. I never even went out anywhere except with father, and with Nat when he was at home from college. You don't know Nat, but you'd like him."