“Well, I am. Now what am I going to do about it?”
Anna Belle, who always gave unwinking attention to the lesson, was in Jewel's lap, and the child twisted out the in-turning morocco foot as she spoke.
“Why, I'd know that one thought of God couldn't be afraid of another,” she replied in the conclusive tone to which Eloise could never grow accustomed.
“Oh, Jewel, child,” the girl said impatiently, “we'd be sorry to think most of the people we know are thoughts of God.”
“That's because you get the error man mixed up with the real one. Mother explains that to me when we ride in cable cars and places where we see error people with sorry faces. There's a real man, a real thought of God, behind every one of them; and when you remember to think right about people every minute, you are doing them good. Did you say you're afraid of somebody?”
“Yes, and that somebody is a man whom I must talk to.”
“Then begin right away to know every minute that the real man isn't anybody to be afraid of, for God made him, and God has only loving thoughts; and of course you must be loving all the time. It'll be just as easy by the time you come to it, cousin Eloise!”
The girl often asked herself in these days why she should begin to feel unreasonably hopeful and lighter hearted. Her mother no longer complained of her moods. Mrs. Evringham laid the becoming change in her daughter's expression to the girl's happiness in discovering that she did reciprocate Dr. Ballard's evident sentiments.
“Eloise is so high minded,” thought the mother complacently. “She would never be satisfied to marry for convenience, like so many;” and considering herself passingly astute, she let well enough alone, ceased to bring the physician's name into every conversation, and bided her time.
One morning Mr. Evringham, coming out of the house to go to town, met Eloise on the piazza.