She moved about the house a few minutes, and then returned, curiously, to the window. To her surprise matters were exactly as she saw them last. Flossie was, holding both dolls in the wheeled chair, and Hazel was sitting under the tree, her hands over her eyes.
A wave of amazement and amusement swept over Miss Fletcher, and she struck her hands together noiselessly. "I do believe in my heart," she exclaimed, "that Hazel Wright is giving Flossie one of those absent treatments they tell about! Well, if I ever in all my born days!"
There was no more work for Miss Fletcher after this, but a restless moving about the room until she saw Hazel bound up from the ground. Then she hurried out of the house and walked over to the tree. Hazel skipped to meet her, her face all alight. "Oh, Miss Fletcher, Flossie wants to be healed by Christian Science. If my mother was only here she could turn to all the places in the Bible where it tells about God being Love and healing sickness."
Miss Fletcher noted the new expression in the invalid's usually listless face, and the new light in her eyes.
"I'll take my Bible," she answered, "and a concordance. I'll bring them right now. You children go on playing and I'll find all the references I can, and Flossie and I will read them after you've gone."
Miss Fletcher brought her books out under the tree, and with pencil and paper made her notes while the children played with their dolls.
"Let's have them both your children, Flossie," said Hazel.
"Oh, yes," replied Flossie, "and they'll both be sick, and you be the doctor and come and feel their pulses. Aunt Hazel has my doll's little medicine bottles in the house. She'll tell you where they are."
Hazel paused. "Let's not play that," she returned, "because—it isn't fun to be sick and—you're going to be all done with sickness."
"All right," returned Flossie; but it had been her principal play with her doll, Bernice, who had recovered from such a catalogue of ills that it reflected great credit on her medical man.