"Perhaps we could," replied Jewel hopefully "Doesn't mother tell the nicest stories, grandpa?"
"She certainly does; and some of the most wonderful you don't hear at all. She tells them to me after you have gone to bed."
"Then you ought to tell them to me," answered Jewel, "just the way I tell mine to you."
Mr. Evringham shook his head. "They probably wouldn't make you open your eyes as wide as I do mine; you're used to them. They're Christian Science stories. Your mother has been treating my rheumatism, Jewel. What do you think of that?"
"Oh, I'm glad," replied the child heartily, "because then you've asked her to."
"How do you know I have?"
"Because she wouldn't treat you if you hadn't, and mother says when people are willing to ask for it, then that's the beginning of everything good for them. You know, grandpa," Jewel leaned toward him lovingly and added softly, "you know even you have to meet mortal mind."
"I shouldn't wonder," responded the broker dryly.
"And it's so proud, and hates to give up so," said Jewel.
"I'm an old dog," returned Mr. Evringham. "Teaching me new tricks is going to be no joke, but your mother undertakes it cheerfully. I'm reading that book, 'Science and Health;' and she says I may have to read it through three times before I get the hang of it."