"Yes," agreed Hazel, "they're in a vase in the parlor now, and she asked me to come to-morrow to see an afflicted girl that's living with her. You know, uncle Dick," Hazel lifted her eyes to him earnestly, "you know how it says everywhere in the Bible that anybody that's afflicted goes to God and He heals them; and what do you think! Miss Fletcher and that little Flossie girl both believe God afflicted her and fixed her back so she can't walk!"
Mr. Badger smiled as he met the wondering eyes. "That isn't Christian Science, is it?" he returned.
"I'd rather never have a garden even like Miss Fletcher's than to think that," declared Hazel, as she went on with her supper. "I feel so sorry for them!"
"So you're going over to-morrow," said Mr. Badger. "What are you going to do; treat the little invalid?"
"Why, no indeed, not unless she asks me to."
"Why not?"
"Because it would be error; it's the worst kind of impoliteness to treat anybody that doesn't ask you to; but I've got to know every minute that her belief is a lie, and that God doesn't know anything about it."
"I thought God knew everything," said Mr. Badger, regarding the child curiously.
"He does, of course, everything that's going to last forever and ever: everything that's beautiful and good and strong. Whatever God thinks about has got to last." The child lifted her shoulders. "I'm glad He doesn't think about mistakes,—sickness, and everything like that, aren't you?"
"I don't want sickness to last forever, I'm sure" returned Mr. Badger.