“Oh, grandpa,” she said, “please let me take hold of your hand.”
“No, not till you answer me. Little girls should be obedient.”
Jewel thought a minute.
“He said it wasn't medicine, so what was the use?” she asked.
Mr. Evringham, seeming to find an answer to this difficult, bit the end of his mustache.
Dr. Ballard was feeling his very ears grow red, while Mrs. Forbes's lips were set in a line of exasperation.
“Grandpa,” said Jewel, and the child's voice was very earnest, “there's a Bible over there on the table. You look in there in the Gospels, and you'll find everywhere how Jesus tells us to do what I've done. He said he must go away, but he would send the Comforter to us, and this book tells about the Comforter.” Jewel took the copy of “Science and Health” from under the sheet.
“God's creation couldn't get sick. It's just His own image and likeness, so how could it? And when you can get right into God's love, what do you want of medicine to swallow? God wouldn't be omnipotent if He needed any help. You see I'm well. Isn't that all you want, grandpa?”
The appeal of her eyes caused the broker to stir undecidedly. “I never did have any use for doctors,” he thought, after the manner of many who, nevertheless, are eager to fly to the brotherhood for help at the first suggestion of pain. Moreover, the humor of the situation was beginning to dawn upon him, and he admired the fine temper and self-control with which the young physician pulled himself together and rose.
“I am glad you are well, Jewel, very,” he said; “but the next time I am called to prescribe for a little Christian Scientist I shall put the pellets on her tongue.” He smiled as he took up his case and said good-by.