“Oh father, that dear horse is all right, I'm sure,” gushed Mrs. Evringham, “or else you wouldn't be here!”
“What? Something the matter with Essex Maid?” asked Dr. Ballard with concern.
“Yes.” Mr. Evringham seated himself. “A sharp attack, but short. She was relieved before we could get Busby here.” The speaker contracted his eyebrows and looked at the child, who was still beside him. “The mare had received mental treatments meanwhile,” he added gravely.
Dr. Ballard smiled, and drawing Jewel to him, lifted her upon his knee. “Look here,” he said, “can't you let anything around here be sick in peace? We doctors shall have to form a union and manage to get you boycotted.”
The child smiled back at him, her head a little on one side, as her manner was when she was in doubt how to respond.
“What a blessing!” exclaimed Mrs. Evringham vivaciously. “Here, father, is the best cup of coffee you ever drank, if I did make it myself.”
Many weeks had elapsed since the broker had accepted a cup of coffee from that fair hand, but he rose now to take it with good grace.
“Is there going to be some cambric tea for this baby?” inquired Dr. Ballard.
“You must be hungry, Jewel; you hadn't finished your dinner,” said her grandfather, but she protested that she was not.
“How is Anna Belle?” asked Dr. Ballard. “It's a long time since I saw her.”