The next day was pleasant, also, and when Hazel appeared outside her aunt's fence, Flossie was sitting under the tree and waved a hand to her. The white face looked pleased and almost eager, and Miss Fletcher called:—
"Come along, Hazel. I guess Flossie got just tired enough yesterday. She slept last night the best she has since she came."
"Yes," added the little invalid, smiling as her new friend drew near, "the night seemed about five minutes long."
"That's the way it does to me," returned Hazel. She had her doll and some books in her arms, and Miss Fletcher took the latter from her.
"H'm, h'm," she murmured, as she looked over the titles. "You have something about Christian Science here."
"Yes, I thought I'd read to-day's lesson to Flossie before I treated her, and you'd let us take your Bible."
"I certainly will. I can tell you, Hazel, Flossie and I were surprised at the number of good verses and promises I read to her last evening. Anybody ought to sleep well after them."
Hazel looked glad, and Miss Fletcher let her run into the house to bring the Bible, for it was on the hall table in plain sight.
While she was gone the hostess smoothed Flossie's hair. "I can tell you, my dear child, that reading all those verses to you last night made me feel that we don't any of us live up to our lights very well. 'Tisn't always a question of sick bodies, Flossie."
Hazel came bounding back to the elm-tree, and sitting down near the wheeled chair, opened the Bible and two of the books she had brought, and proceeded to read the lesson. Had she been a few years older, she would not have attempted this without a word of explanation to two people to whom many of the terms of her religion were strange, but no doubts assailed her. The little white girl in the wheeled chair was going to get out of it and run around and be happy—that was all Hazel knew, and she proceeded in the only way she knew of to bring it about.