"Just think of being well and running around here with me, and think that God wants you to!"
"Oh, do you believe He does?" returned Flossie doubtfully. "Mother says it will do my soul good for me to be sick, if I can't get well."
Hazel shook her head violently. "You know when Jesus was on earth? Well, he never told anybody it was better for them to be sick. He healed everybody, everybody that asked him, and he came to do the will of his Father; so God's will doesn't change, and it's just the same now."
There was a faint color in Flossie's cheeks. "If I was sure God wanted me to get well, why then I'd know I would some time."
"Of course He does; but you didn't know how to ask Him right."
"Do you?" asked Flossie.
Hazel nodded. "Yes; not so well as mother, but I do know a little, and if you want me to, I'll ask Him for you."
"Well, of course I do," returned Flossie, regarding her visitor with grave, wondering eyes.
In a minute Miss Fletcher, watching the children through a window, beheld something that puzzled her. She saw Hazel roll Flossie's chair back under the elm-tree, and saw her sit down on the grass beside it and cover her eyes with both hands.
"What game are they playing?" she asked herself; and she smiled, well pleased by the friendship that had begun. "I wish health was catching," she sighed. "Little Hazel's a picture. I wonder how long it'll be before she finds out who I am. I wonder what Richard's idea is in not telling her."