Jewel: A Chapter in Her Life Part 24

Jewel looked up with all the rebuke she could convey. "You ought not to ask me that," she returned.

Dr. Ballard rose and went to the door. "Get me a gla.s.s of water, please, Mrs. Forbes."

"Not a gla.s.s. I want a whole pitcher full right side of me," said Jewel.

"Yes, a pitcher full also, if you please, Mrs. Forbes. Just let the maid bring them up."

The doctor returned to the bedside. "Now we'll soon forget that you wet those little feet," he said.

"That didn't do me any harm, that clean sweet brook. Mrs. Forbes didn't know what was the real matter."

"What was it, then?"

"My own fault," said Jewel, speaking with feverish quickness and squeezing the doctor's hand. "When I came here I found that n.o.body loved one another and everybody was afraid and sorry, and instead of denying it and helping them, I began voicing error and calling them names.

I didn't keep remembering that G.o.d was here, and I called it Castle Discord and called Mrs. Forbes the giantess, and aunt Madge the error fairy, and cousin Eloise the enchanted maiden, and of course how could I help getting sick?"

Dr. Ballard leaned toward her. Was this an impromptu tale, or was it a fact that this child had been coldly treated and unhappy? "You have a sensitive conscience, Jewel," he returned.

Here Sarah entered, set down the tray with pitcher, gla.s.ses, and spoon, and departed. The doctor loosed the little hand he had been holding, took up his case, and opened it.

Jewel watched him with apprehension. "That's--medicine isn't it?" she asked with bated breath.

"Yes." The doctor carefully selected a bottle of liquid and set it on the table. "I think this one will do us."

Jewel's remark on the train about materia medica recurred to him, and he smiled.

"Dr. Ballard, aren't you a Christian?" she asked suddenly.

He glanced up. "I hope so."

"Then you'll forgive me if I won't take medicine. I put out my tongue, and I sucked the little gla.s.s thing because I didn't want to trouble you; but I have too much faith in G.o.d to take medicine." The child looked at the doctor appealingly.

He began to see light, and in his surprise, for a moment he did not reply.

"Jesus Christ would have used drugs if they had been right," she added.

"But He isn't here now," returned the astonished young man.

"Why, Dr. Ballard," in gentle reproach, "Christ is the Truth of G.o.d.

Isn't He here now, healing us and helping us just the same as ever?

Didn't He say He would be? You will see how much better I shall be to-night."

Dr. Ballard met the heavy eyes with his own kind, clear ones. "I see you have been taught in new ways, Jewel," he said seriously, "but you are only a little girl, and while you are in your grandfather's house you ought to do as he wishes. He wishes you to let me prescribe for you. No one who is ill can help making trouble. You have no right not to try to get well in the way Mr. Evringham and Mrs. Forbes wish you to."

Jewel felt herself in a desperate position. The corners of her lips twitched down. Dr. Ballard thought he saw his advantage, and leaned his fine head toward her. She impulsively threw her arms around his neck.

"You don't want to hurt my feelings, Jewel," he said. She was crying softly.

"No--it would make me--very--sorry, but it would be--worse--to hurt--G.o.d's. Please don't make me, please, please don't make me, Dr.

Ballard!"

She was increasingly excited, and he feared the effect.

"Very well then, Jewel," he returned. "I don't want to do you more harm than good."

"Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed fervently, through her tears.

"But Mrs. Forbes must think you have the medicine. You haven't told her that you are--ahem--a Christian Scientist. I suppose that is what you call yourself."

"Yes, sir. A Christian Scientist. Oh, you're the kindest man," pursued the relieved child. "I realized in my prayer that you didn't know it was wrong to believe in material medica, for you reflect love all the time."

While she was talking and wiping her eyes the doctor took the pitcher and one of the gla.s.ses to the window, and stood with his back to her.

"Now then," he said, returning, "we'll put this half gla.s.s of water on the table. I put the spoon across it so, and when Mrs. Forbes is next in the room you take a couple of spoonfuls and that will satisfy her. You may tell her that I wanted you only to take it about four times during the day. If you are better when I come back this evening, I will not insist upon your taking any pellets on your tongue. Here is the other gla.s.s for you to drink from."

With a few more kind words Dr. Ballard took his departure, and going downstairs met Mrs. Forbes. "The little girl has a heavy feverish cold.

She understands how to take her medicine. She will probably sleep a good deal. Let her be quiet."

He went on to the study, where Mr. Evringham was waiting, sitting at the desk, his head on his hand, frowning at the yellow chicken. He looked up expectantly as the doctor entered.

"Well?" he asked.

Dr. Ballard came forward and seated himself in a neighboring chair.

"Do you know what you have upstairs there?" he asked in a low tone.

"For heaven's sake, Guy, don't tell me it's something serious--something infectious!" Mr. Evringham turned pale.

The doctor's sudden smile was rea.s.suring. "It does seem to be infectious to some degree," he returned, "but I don't believe you'll catch it."

"What are you grinning at, boy?" asked the broker sharply.

"Don't be alarmed, Mr. Evringham, but the fact is, that you have in your house a small and young but perfectly formed and well-developed specimen of a Christian Scientist."

"What, man!" The broker grew red again.

Dr. Ballard nodded deliberately. "Your little granddaughter belongs to the new cult; and I can a.s.sure you she is dyed in the wool, and moreover is all wool and a yard wide."

"The devil you say!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Evringham. "But," he added with a sudden thought, "that may be a part of the poor child's feverish nonsense. She was full of talk of castles and giantesses and fairies and what not when I was up there."

"Yes. She is no flightier than you are this minute. All these t.i.tles are those she has given to your house and household in the last two days, and according to her diagnosis, it is that indulgence from which she is suffering now, and not from too much brook. She says she has 'voiced error.'"

The doctor looked quizzically at his friend, who returned his gaze, nonplussed.

"That's it--'error,'" rejoined Mr. Evringham, "that's what she is often saying. This explains her vocabulary, in all probability. She has sometimes the strangest talk you ever listened to. Well, that's the mother's doing, of course, and not the child's fault. I maintain it is not the child's fault. With it all, Ballard, I tell you she's a very well meaning child--a rather winning child, in fact. Good natured disposition. I hope she's not very ill. I do, indeed. Ha! That, then, is why she was so excited at the thought of having a doctor. Tomfoolery!"

"Yes, that was it. We've had some argument." The young doctor smiled.

"She doesn't consider me hopeless, however. She told me that she had mentioned to the Lord that she was sure I didn't know it was wrong to believe in materia medica."