"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 G.o.d created everybody and everything, then it is so easy to understand that I wasn't. Think of G.o.d creating anything bad!"

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

"Yes, for a while."

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

"I don't know about your having ink. You're a rather small girl to be writing letters."

"Oh no, I'll take a pencil--because sometimes I move quickly and ink tips over."

"Quite so. I'm glad you realize that, else I should be afraid to have you come to my study."

"You'd better not be afraid," the child shook her head sagely, "because that makes things happen."

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

CHAPTER XIV

FAMILY AFFAIRS

He continued to watch the child furtively, while she made her arrangements for writing. Finding that no chair in the room would bring her to a proper height for the table, she looked all about, and finally skipped over to the morocco lounge and tugged from it a pillow almost too heavy for her to carry; but she arrived with it at the chair, much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of Mr. Evringham, who affected absorption in his papers, while he enjoyed the exhibition of the child's energy and independence.

"She's the kind that 'makes old shears cut,' as my mother used to say,"

he mused, and turning, the better to view the situation, he found Jewel mounted on her perch and watching him fixedly.

She looked relieved. "I didn't want to disturb you, grandpa, but may I ask one question?"

"Yes."

"Did I consult Dr. Ballard this afternoon?"

"Not that I noticed," returned Mr. Evringham; and Jewel suspected from his expression that she had said something amusing.

"Well, it was a word that sounded like consult that Mrs. Forbes said I did."

"Insult, perhaps," suggested Mr. Evringham.

"Oh yes. How do you spell it, grandpa?"

Mr. Evringham told her, and added dryly, "That was rather too strong language for Mrs. Forbes to apply to the fact."

"Yes," replied the child. "I knew it was a hating word." Then without further parley she squared her elbows on the table and bent over her sheet of paper.

"I wonder what version of it she'll give her mother," thought the broker, rummaging vaguely in the pigeon holes of his desk. His labors finally sifted down to the unearthing of a late novel from a drawer at his right hand, and lowering a convenient, green-shaded electric light, he lit his cigar, and was soon lost in the pages of the story.

At last he became conscious that the pencil at the table had ceased to move, and lowering his book he looked up. His granddaughter had been watching for this happy event, and she no sooner met his eyes than, with a smile of satisfaction, she jumped from her morocco perch and brought him a sheet of paper well and laboriously covered.

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

"To Dr. Ballard!" repeated Mr. Evringham. His curiosity impelled him.

"Shall I see if it is spelled right?"

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

DEAR DOCTOR BALUD--Mrs. Forbs felt bad because I did not take your Medsin. She said it was an insult. I want to tell you I did not meen an Insult. We can't help loving G.o.d beter than any body, but I love you and if I took any medsin I would rather take yours than any boddy's. Mrs.

Forbs says you will send a big Bill to Grandpa and that it was error to waist it. Please send the Bill to me because I have Plenty of munny, and I shall love to pay you. You were very kind and did not put any thing on my Tung.

Your loving JEWEL.

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

"I can't write very straight without lines," she said.

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

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

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