The girl looked tenderly back into the eyes that were sharp with inquiry. "Dear little mother," she returned, "it can't be."

"What can't be?"

"What you wish. Dr. Ballard."

"Have you--refused him--!" Mrs. Evringham's face whitened, and unconsciously she stepped back.

"It didn't have to come to that. Dr. Ballard is so fine--such a wise man in so many ways. I do admire him so much."

"What did you say to him? I will know!" exclaimed Mrs. Evringham pa.s.sionately.

Eloise was mute, and her eyes besought her mother.

"Speak, I say! Was it Christian Science? Did you dare, Eloise Evringham, did you _dare_ spoil your life--my life--our future, by scaring Dr.

Ballard with that bugbear?" The angry woman was breathing fast.

"Mother dear, don't give us something so painful to remember. Don't, I beg of you. Dr. Ballard does not reproach me. He thinks I shall change, and he wishes to give me time to see if I do. Think of him, if you will not think of me. He would be so shocked to have you take it this way.

If you could have seen how kind he was, how patient. Dear mother, don't cry. It isn't anything I can help, unless I should deliberately turn dishonest."

But Mrs. Evringham did cry, and heartily. She hurried away to her own room as quickly as possible, and locked the door against Eloise, who lay awake for hours with a strange mingling of regret and joy at her heart, and a constant declaring of the truth.

At midnight the girl heard the door unlock and saw her mother emerge.

"Darling mamma!" she exclaimed, springing out of bed.

"Oh, Eloise," moaned the poor woman, dissolving again upon her child's shoulder. "I never went to bed without your kiss, and I can't bear it.

How can you be so cru--cru--cruel!"

"Darling, everything is going to come right," returned Eloise, holding her close. "Nothing good would come of doing wrong. I never loved you so much as now. I never saw duty so plainly. Dearest, in one way I suffer for you, but still I was never so happy. I have grasped the end of the clue that will surely lead us safely through the labyrinth, no matter what life brings. You will see, mamma dear, after a while you will see.

Don't go back. Come into my bed."

Disconsolately Mrs. Evringham obeyed, and in a few minutes, worn out with emotion, she had sobbed herself to sleep in her child's arms; and although for many days afterward she wore a languid air, and declared that there was nothing to live for, she yielded herself to Eloise's courageous and quietly joyful atmosphere, with silent wonder at her child's altered outlook.

On the morning following the painful interview with her mother, Eloise presented herself in Jewel's room at the usual hour.

Smiling, she approached the child and exhibited three fresh new books.

India paper editions of the Bible and "Science and Health," and the little brown pamphlet were in her hands.

"Yours?" exclaimed the child.

Eloise nodded.

"Good, good!" Jewel hopped up and down, and forthwith brought Anna Belle to have her share in the rejoicing.

"You were afraid you couldn't get them. Now see!" cried the child triumphantly. "As if Divine Love couldn't send you those books!"

"He showed me a way," returned the girl. "See where I've written my name. I want you to put 'Jewel' right under it in each one."

"Oh, in those lovely books?" said the child doubtfully. "I don't write very well."

"Yes, I want it, dear, when we go downstairs and can get some ink. Did anybody fix your hair yesterday?"

"I just brushed it down real smooth on the outside," returned the child.

"It looks so," said Eloise, laughing. "Let's fix it before we have the lesson. By the way, what time is it, Jewel?"

The little girl smiled back at her cousin's reflection in the gla.s.s, and took the open morocco case from the bureau. "Anna Belle and I put him to bed last night," she said, looking fondly at the silver cherub on its velvet couch. "We've named him Little Faithful. He'll come to the lesson, too. I know he's going to be a lovely Scientist."

"I'm sure I hope he will, and neither be fast nor lazy," returned Eloise, as she unbraided the short pigtails.

"I tell you it wasn't so nice getting the lesson alone yesterday," said Jewel. "You were away all day! Did you have a nice ride?"

"Yes," Eloise responded slowly. "The day was very nice--and so is Dr.

Ballard."

"Did he enjoy it?" asked the child hopefully. The doctor had been a good deal on her mind.

"Some of the time," responded Eloise soberly.

"Why not all the time? Did error creep in?"

The older girl brushed away in silence for a minute.

"I didn't mean to talk about grown-up things," said the child, somewhat abashed. "Mother says I must be careful not to."

"It is all right, Jewel. The new ideas I have been learning have made me see some things so clearly. One is to perceive what it is that really draws people together in a bond that cannot be broken. There is only one thing that can do it and will do it, and that is loving the same truth.

Two people can have a very good time together for a while, and like each other very much, but the time comes when their thoughts fly apart unless that one bond of union is there--unless they love the same spiritual truth."

The speaker caught, in the gla.s.s, the child's eyes fixed attentively upon her.

"Wouldn't Dr. Ballard look at our book?" asked Jewel softly.

"No, dear."

The child reflected a minute, and her eyes filled. "I just love him,"

she said.

Her cousin stooped and kissed her cheek. "You well may," she returned quietly. "He deserves it."

They studied the lesson and then went downstairs, where Jewel in her very best hand slowly transcribed her name in the new books; then she told Eloise that she was going out to the barn.

"I'm going to visit with Zeke," she said. "He has a claim of error, and he is willing Science should help him."

"Is he ill?"

Jewel looked off. "It isn't that kind of error."

"There are plenty worse," rejoined Eloise. She looked doubtfully at the little girl. "Wouldn't you better tell me, dear? Is it right for you to go?"