“Who made the doctor?” she asked.
Zeke stood on one foot and then on the other.
“God did, and you know it, Zeke. He's the one to go to in trouble.”
“But you're going to that Chicago woman,” objected Zeke.
“Yes, because she'll go to God for me. I'm being held down by something that pretends to have power, and though I know it's an old cheat, I haven't understanding enough to get rid of it as quickly as she will. You see, I wouldn't have been taken sick if I hadn't believed in a lie instead of denying it. We have to watch our thoughts every minute, and I tell you, Zeke, sometimes it seems real hard work.”
“Should say so,” returned 'Zekiel. “The less you think the better, I should suppose, if that's the case. I've got to be going now.”
“And you'll send the telegram surely, and you won't speak of it to any one?”
“Mum's the word, and I'll send it if it's the last act; but don't put all your eggs in one basket, little kid. I know Dr. Ballard's been here, and now you do everything he said, like a good girl, and between the two of 'em they ought to fix you up. I'd pin more faith to a doctor in the hand than to one in the bush a thousand miles away, if 't was me.”
Jewel smiled on him from heavy eyes. “Did you ever hear of God's needing any help?” she asked. “I'll never forget your being so kind to me, never, Zeke; and when error melts away I'm coming out to the stable with grandpa. He said I should. Good-by.”
As soon as the plum-colored livery had disappeared Jewel drew herself up, took the water pitcher between her hot little hands, and drank long and deeply. Then with a sigh of satisfaction she turned over in bed and drew Anna Belle close to her.