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.