“Yes, he had on the pin--this one, you know.” Jewel touched the small gold symbol, and Dr. Ballard examined it curiously. “So we smiled at each other, and to-day he's told me where I can come to church, and I'm nearly sure cousin Eloise will go with me.” Dr. Ballard's eyes grew serious as he turned Hector's head toward the park. “I can scarcely believe it of Mr. Reeves,” he said. “He says you are too nice to bow down to false gods,” added Jewel shyly. “If mine are false to you, yours are false to me,” said the young man kindly. “You can understand that, can't you, Jewel?” “Yes, I can.” “And we should never quarrel over it, should we?” he went on. “No--o!” returned Jewel scornfully. “We'd get a pain.” “But you can see,” went on the young doctor seriously, “that the more we cared for one another the more we should regret such a wide difference of opinion.” “I suppose so,” agreed the child, “and so we'd--” “You are going back to Chicago after a while, and so you understand that I can better afford to agree to differ with you than I could with some one who was going to stay here--your cousin Eloise, for instance.” The child looked at him in silence. She had never seen Dr. Ballard wear this expression. “For this reason, Jewel, I want to ask you if you won't do me the favor not to talk to your cousin about Christian Science, nor ask her to read your books, nor to go to church with you.” The child's countenance reflected his seriousness. “You can see, can't you, that if Miss Eloise should become much interested in that fad it would spoil our pleasure in being together, while it lasted?” The word fad was not in Jewel's vocabulary, but she grasped the doctor's meaning, and understood that he was much in earnest. She felt very responsible for the moment, and in doubt how to express herself. “I feel sort of mixed up, Dr. Ballard,” she returned after a minute's silent perplexity. “You don't mind cousin Eloise reading the Bible, do you?” “No.” “You're glad if she can be happy instead of sorry, aren't you?” “Yes.” Jewel looked at him hopefully. “There won't be anything worse than that,” she said. “Yes, many things worse,” he responded quickly. “You might do me that little favor, Jewel. I understand you go to her with your lessons, as you call it, and your questions.” “Yes, she helps me; but she takes my books to her room. I don't see how I can help it, Dr. Ballard.” “Well,” he heaved a quiet sigh, “perhaps the attack will be shorter if it is sharp. We'll hope so.” “I wouldn't do any harm to you for anything,” said the child earnestly, “but you wait a little while. When people come into Christian Science it makes them twice as nice. If you see cousin Eloise get twice as nice you'll be glad, won't you?” The young man gave an impatient half laugh.