“Would you like to?” asked Jewel doubtfully.
“Why—of—course!—if she's still up. Don't have her dress on my account.”
“She doesn't go to bed till I do,” responded the child. “I know she'd love to come down!” In a flash she had bounded to the door and disappeared.
Eloise was still sitting on the piano stool, facing the room. “Grandfather,” she said, leaning slightly forward in her earnestness, “did Jewel really treat Essex Maid?”
The broker shrugged his shoulders and smiled as he stirred his coffee.
“I believe she did.”
“And do you think it did the horse any good?”
“Don't be absurd!” cried her mother laughingly, on nettles lest the girl displease the young doctor.
“Don't crowd me, Eloise, don't crowd me,” responded Mr. Evringham. “I'd rather have something a little more substantial doing for a sick horse than the prayers of an infant; eh, Ballard?”
“I've been reading Jewel's Christian Science book a great deal the last few days,” said Eloise. “If it's the truth, then she helped Essex Maid.”