“Get some paper, Zeke, in the top bureau drawer. There's a pencil on the bureau.”
He obeyed, and she gave him an address which he wrote down. “Now this: 'Please treat me for fever and sore throat. Jewel.'”
Zeke wrote the message and tucked it into a pocket.
“Now please get my leather bag in the drawer,” said the child, “and take out money enough.”
The young fellow hesitated. “If you haven't got plenty of money”—he began.
“I have. You'll see. Oh, Zeke, you've made me so happy!”
The coachman's clumsy hands fumbled with the clasp of the little bag.
“I can do it,” said Jewel, and he brought it to her and watched her while she took out the money and gave it to him. He took a coin, returned the rest to the bag, and snapped it.
“Say, little girl,” he said uneasily, “you look to me like a doctor'd do you a whole lot o' good.”
Jewel gazed at him in patient wonder.