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.