“Oh, in those lovely books?” said the child doubtfully.  “I don’t write very well.”

“Yes, I want it, dear, when we go downstairs and can get some ink.  Did anybody fix your hair yesterday?”

“I just brushed it down real smooth on the outside,” returned the child.

“It looks so,” said Eloise, laughing.  “Let’s fix it before we have the lesson.  By the way, what time is it, Jewel?”

The little girl smiled back at her cousin’s reflection in the glass, and took the open morocco case from the bureau.  “Anna Belle and I put him to bed last night,” she said, looking fondly at the silver cherub on its velvet couch.  “We’ve named him Little Faithful.  He’ll come to the lesson, too.  I know he’s going to be a lovely Scientist.”

“I’m sure I hope he will, and neither be fast nor lazy,” returned Eloise, as she unbraided the short pigtails.

“I tell you it wasn’t so nice getting the lesson alone yesterday,” said Jewel.  “You were away all day!  Did you have a nice ride?”

“Yes,” Eloise responded slowly.  “The day was very nice—­and so is Dr. Ballard.”

“Did he enjoy it?” asked the child hopefully.  The doctor had been a good deal on her mind.

“Some of the time,” responded Eloise soberly.

“Why not all the time?  Did error creep in?”

The older girl brushed away in silence for a minute.

“I didn’t mean to talk about grown-up things,” said the child, somewhat abashed.  “Mother says I must be careful not to.”

“It is all right, Jewel.  The new ideas I have been learning have made me see some things so clearly.  One is to perceive what it is that really draws people together in a bond that cannot be broken.  There is only one thing that can do it and will do it, and that is loving the same truth.  Two people can have a very good time together for a while, and like each other very much, but the time comes when their thoughts fly apart unless that one bond of union is there—­unless they love the same spiritual truth.”

The speaker caught, in the glass, the child’s eyes fixed attentively upon her.

“Wouldn’t Dr. Ballard look at our book?” asked Jewel softly.

“No, dear.”

The child reflected a minute, and her eyes filled.  “I just love him,” she said.

Her cousin stooped and kissed her cheek.  “You well may,” she returned quietly.  “He deserves it.”

They studied the lesson and then went downstairs, where Jewel in her very best hand slowly transcribed her name in the new books; then she told Eloise that she was going out to the barn.

“I’m going to visit with Zeke,” she said.  “He has a claim of error, and he is willing Science should help him.”

“Is he ill?”

Jewel looked off.  “It isn’t that kind of error.”

“There are plenty worse,” rejoined Eloise.  She looked doubtfully at the little girl.  “Wouldn’t you better tell me, dear?  Is it right for you to go?”