"I did. You will recall the fact that from being feeble she began to gain strength. Periodically I repeated my injections, and renewed vigor coursed through her system."
"You certainly worked wonders. I distinctly remember that I marvelled at the improvement which followed your treatment."
"In due season you were presented with a daughter. A beautiful, baby girl!"
"My little angel Agnes!"
The Judge spoke softly, and with tenderness. In fancy he looked back to the day when the nurse brought him the little cherub, newly arrived, and he felt again the tightening of his heart-strings which told him that he was a father.
"You held the babe in your arms," said the Doctor, "and you, as well as all the others, recognized that it was an exceptional infant. But none of you guessed that a child had been born, who, like Chauvau's lambs, would be immune to all disease!"
"Do you really mean that you accomplished that almost incredible miracle?" exclaimed the Judge, as at last he perceived the nature of the claim upon Agnes, which the Doctor was endeavoring to establish.
"Do you doubt it? Glance back over her career. Remember the various climates that she has visited; the many epidemics which she has passed through in safety. Yellow fever in Memphis, small-pox in the Indies, and several seasons of diphtheria at home, here in New York. She has been near typhoid and scarlet fever; la grippe has visited us twice in epidemic form, and is carrying off hundreds at this very time. Can you recall a day in all her life, when Agnes has been ill? No! You cannot!" The Doctor's tone was triumphant. The Judge's reply was low.
"Providence has certainly blessed her with remarkable health," he murmured.
"Providence?" exclaimed the Doctor, passionately. "No! Not Providence, but I! I, Emanuel Medjora, the Wizard! I have blessed her with her wonderful health! To me she owes it all! I claim her! She is as much mine as yours!"