She felt very puzzled, but seeing that the figure was sitting quite still in front of the temple, she drew close up to the cabinet again, and presently she whispered: "Did you nod at me just now?"
The ebony priest bowed his head almost to the ground.
There could be no doubt about it this time. He was a magic priest after all. Grace did not feel frightened any more. A joyful hope began to swell in her heart, and she said, "Oh, I'm so glad! You won't go away and leave us, will you?"
For a moment the figure sat motionless, and then the head gave a most decided shake, wagging the silver beard from side to side.
"What a dear old darling you are," exclaimed Grace in delight. "But you know how ill poor mother is, and how much she wants nice things to make her strong. You will have to get them for her, if you stay, you know."
Again the priest nodded gravely.
"It isn't a very easy thing to do," said Grace, holding up a warning finger. "My father is ever such a clever man, and he can't always manage it. Why, he has written a great big book, all on long sheets of paper—piles, and piles, and piles of them, and even that hasn't done it! I shouldn't think you could write a book."
The figure of the priest sat perfectly still, and as she talked Grace thought that the expression on his face grew more solemn than ever, and even a little cross, so she hastened to say, "Don't be offended, please. I didn't mean to be rude. I know you must be very magic indeed, or you couldn't nod your head so beautifully. But do you really think you can get mother everything the doctor has ordered?"
A fourth time the priest nodded, and this time he did it more emphatically than ever.
Little Grace clapped her hands softly.