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.”