“I'm glad you've come, Ballard. I'm very much troubled about the child. Her father and mother abroad you understand, and I feel the responsibility. She seems very flighty, quite wild in her talk at moments. I wished to warn you that one of her feverish ideas is that she doesn't want a doctor. You will have to use some tact.” The physician's face lost its careless smile. “Delirious, you say?” “Yes, go right up, Guy. I'll wait for you here. It's so sudden. She was quite well, to all appearances, yesterday.” “Children are sensitive little mortals,” remarked Dr. Ballard, and then Mrs. Forbes ushered him up to the white room. He asked her to remain within call, and entered alone. The child's eyes were open as he approached the bed, the black case she remembered in his hand. By her expression he saw that her mind was clear. “Well, well, Jewel, this isn't the way I meant you to receive me the first time I called,” he said pleasantly, drawing up a chair beside the bed. The child put out her hand to his offered one and tried to smile. As he held the hand he felt her pulse. “This isn't the way to behave when you go visiting,” he added. “I know it isn't,” returned Jewel contritely. “The next time you go wading in the brook, take off your shoes and stockings, little one, and I think you would better wait until later in the season, anyway. You've made quick work of this business.” As he talked the doctor took his little thermometer out of its case. “Now then, let me slip this under your tongue.” “What is it?” asked Jewel, shrinking. “What! Haven't you ever had your temperature tried? Well, you have been a healthy little girl! All the better. Just take it under your tongue, and don't speak for a minute, please.” “Please don't ask me to. I can't.” “There's nothing to be afraid of. It won't hurt you.” The doctor smiled. “I know what that is now,” said Jewell, regarding the little tube. “A man was cured of paralysis once by having a thing like that stuck in his mouth. He thought it was meant to cure him. I haven't paralysis.” The doctor began to consider that perhaps Mr. Evringham had not exaggerated. “Come, Jewel,” he said kindly. “I thought we were such good friends. You are wasting my time.” A moment more of hesitation, and then the child suddenly opened her mouth and accepted the thermometer. She kept her eyes closed during the process of waiting, and at last Dr. Ballard took out the little instrument and examined it. “Let me see your tongue.” The child stared in surprise. “Put out your tongue, Jewel,” he repeated kindly. “But that is impolite,” she protested. He changed his position. The poor little thing was flighty, and no wonder, with such a temperature. He took her hand again. “I'll overlook the impoliteness. Run out your tongue now. Far as you can, dear.” The child obeyed.