“Yes, come and be quick. There won't be much time. You watch the clock that's side of her bed, and don't you be late.”
'Zekiel followed with alacrity. His mother, starting him up the backstairs, gave him directions how to go, and remained below.
Jewel, her eyes fixed on the open back door of her room, felt a leap of the heart as Zeke, fine in his handsome livery, came blushing and tiptoeing into the room.
“I'm so glad, I'm so glad!” she exclaimed in her soft, thick voice. “Shut the door, please.”
“I told you to remember you'd only got to say 'Zeke' and I'd come,” he said, approaching the bed. “I'm awful sorry you're sick, little kid.”
“Did you ever hear of Christian Science, Zeke?” she asked hurriedly.
“Yes, I did. Woman I knew in Boston cured of half a dozen things. She held that Christian Science did it.”
“Oh, good, good. I'm a Christian Scientist, and nobody here is, and I want to send a telegram to Chicago, to a lady to treat me. Nobody would do it for me but you. Will you?”
It would have taken a hard heart to resist the appeal, and Zeke's was soft.
“Of course I will,” he answered. “Going right to the station now to take Mr. Evringham. I can send it as well as not.”